


Goldeneye

by MissSuzeH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Little Porn, F/M, Intrigue, Post-Hogwarts, a little plot, a lot of porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:20:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSuzeH/pseuds/MissSuzeH
Summary: Hermione Granger joined the Unspeakables section of the Ministry Of Magic. Recently returned from a successful operation in Jamaica, her boss has sent her to The Firefly Country Club, Hotel and Spa for a few days to "relax and recharge her wand." She however encounters someone from her past, leaving her wondering if this a break or perhaps an undercover mission.......





	1. Take It Easy Miss Granger

**Author's Note:**

> So some notes before we start. As usual, I have absolutely no idea, how many chapters this will be, I have half a dozen in hand, so maybe double that. The story is rated M for future chapters. My regular readers will know I mean what I say, you will also know who will lead Miss Granger down this naughty path...so you have been warned of the pairing and the content.
> 
> For me before there was JK Rowling's literary creation, my book hero was one Commander James Bond RN, I decided to have a little fun and combine the two. Maybe give some of the world, not me I hasten to add (only here) what they have been asking for... a female Bond, well Hermione Granger the Unspeakable that is. The useless information for those who are interested. Each chapter is the title taken from one of Ian Fleming's novels, there are various references to his books, places, names etc and also the films. The title of this Chapter is the first in Thunderball, it was also the last, so will be the same here.
> 
> As always I hope you like my little tale and my take on the mish mash. Reviews, comments and constructive thoughts are always welcome and of course I apologise for any errors, grammatical or otherwise.

Hermione Granger's wild man of brown hair was caught up in a fluffy white towel, it was wrapped tightly around her head like a turban. Her pretty, well-scrubbed face was now covered in some kind of warm, fruity smelling green slime, leaving her feeling like a specimen from the late Professor Snape's potions classroom. Her brown eyes were lightly closed and hidden beneath two slivers of cool cucumber, a pigmy troll was doing what felt like the military two step on her back. His pudgy little feet pummelling her bum one minute before dancing lithely and expertly up her spine, where its long fingers and toes then dug into her flesh, kneading what were her obviously tense and knotted shoulders. Despite being an at times, rather sadistic sensation, is was also blissfully soothing, and Hermione could feel herself beginning to relax and unwind, the tension she never realised she had, ebbing slowly from her naked body.

Hermione's boss at the Ministry of Magic was Ralph Messervy an exceptionally tall, sandy haired wizard, clean shaven, he spoke very quietly and _frightfully_ well, always putting Hermione in mind of a muggle politician from a very bygone era. Head of The Department of Mysteries and wizard in charge of the Unspeakables section, he didn't wear conventional wizards' robes, preferring his impeccably tailored three-piece suits, silk ties and white shirts, which, as he liked to drop into conversations from time to time, he acquired from a little muggle tailor on Saville Row. That would certainly account for his bygone, political mugglelike appearance, she'd thought, upon first hearing this.

When Hermione had been called to the Ministry for the obligatory post job debrief with him, a few days earlier, he had told her, in that no nonsense, soft upper-class voice of his, she should take a few days off, recharge her wand after her last assignment overseas. Hermione had assured him it wasn't necessary, that she was fine, in fighting form and more than ready for her next task. As their conversation had gone on, the young witch realised it wasn't actually a suggestion at all, and she knew no amount of protestation on her part was going to change the sage wizard's mind. Hermione had groaned inwardly but smiled at her boss thanking him for his thoughtfulness.

"Thoughtfulness be buggered."

He had said forthrightly in his usual quiet, cut glass tone, waving his hand dismissively, his piercing but kindly bright blue eyes remaining firmly fixed on her.

"You're my best Unspeakable Granger, got to keep you in top form. Don't care what you say, that last assignment in Jamaica was a rough one in more ways than one. Do you good, few days away from it all, no interruptions, no work, Firewhiskey or two." He'd given her a conspiratorial wink.

"A good lie in, bit of r and r all around, rest that wand arm and all that."

Hermione had blushed a little at his praise, withholding a grin at his phraseology. Substitute a Kir Royale or two for the Firewhiskey and she had to admit the idea did sound rather appealing, even if she wasn't too good at taking time off and relaxing.

He was right, well of course he was, it stood to reason, that was why he held the position he did, her last assignment had been rough and challenging to, both mentally and physically. Perhaps a few days, not too far away just relaxing, wasn't such a terrible idea after all.

Hermione discovered as she exited his office, his _suggestion_ wasin fact already a fait au complet.

Adjoining his own office, behind a large leather covered door was that of his ever-efficient assistant. She was an equally tall witch, a pretty redheaded by the name of Lois Bliss, who was just as elegant as her boss and ran his office with clockwork like precision. She'd given Hermione a warm smile and cheery Hello, as the younger woman had entered her small, ridiculously neat and tidy office, her expressive green eyes sparkling as she handed her a brochure and reservation confirmation for a long weekend at the Firefly Manor Hotel and Spa, an exclusive wizarding retreat buried in the heart of the English countryside.

"I'm so jealous." Lois Bliss had confided to Hermione in a very girlish way.

"The spa and treatments are just to die for! As for that cocktail list, and just look at the size of those beds." She'd gushed.

From beneath the cold cucumber, Hermione could still see the wistful look in her green eyes, hear the good-natured envy in her tone, as she'd had flicked quickly through the shiny brochure Lois Bliss had handed her. Page upon glossy page of luxury, from those very large, sumptuous still beds and rooms, to the moving images of the opulent spa and panoramic grounds.

Even if it did go against the grain, Hermione had to agree with Ralph Messervy's envious assistant it did look, _to die for,_ the enormous beds did look exceptionally invitingand as for that sparkling reddish pink kir royale topped with a blackberry on the cocktail list, one or two certainly had her name on.

Hermione hadn't sampled either the bed or the cocktail. She'd arrived just after 2pm and had been shown to her enormous room overlooking the stunning grounds, by a house elf called Tiffy. The timid little creature, wearing a smarter than usual tea towel like garment, had informed Hermione that a welcome treatment session in the Valerian Spa was booked for 3pm, at which point she had apparated away with a sudden pop, leaving the young witch with just enough time to unpack, and have a quick rather childish bounce on the bed to see if it was as soft and inviting as it looked…it was. She had then slipped into one of the complimentary waffle robes, embossed with a large gold F and fully glowing insect on the pocket, and headed to the spa.

An hour and a half or so later, here she was covered in scented green slime, being trampled on by a pigmy troll but feeling surprisingly relaxed. The tiny dumpy creature suddenly leapt from her back, its work clearly done, and Hermione stretched languorously, her body relishing the loss of its rather hefty weight, at the same time savouring how good it now felt. Turned onto her back, the cool cucumber was removed from her eyes and the scented green slime rhythmically bathed from her face with cotton pads and a refreshing cleanser. Hermione wanted to open her eyes but found she just couldn't.

Loathed at she was to admit it; Hermione Granger hadn't been this relaxed in a _very_ long time.

A grate of coals softly crackled in a hole in the stone wall, every so often they would crackle just a little louder and the sweet scent of jasmine and oranges would drift into the air and to her nostrils, clearing her senses. The remainder of the circular room was enshrouded with misted glass, ensuring total privacy, warm subtly coloured water constantly poured down the frosted panes, coupled with the sound of the fire it was positively hypnotic. Perpetually warm moist towels moved over her body, they too had a sweet aroma, but one, through her almost trance like state Hermione couldn't quite place, they rubbed and buffed her already sensitised skin and she slipped even further into her dreamlike state. Somewhere in the back of her mind she idly wondered if this was what it was like to be under the Imperious curse, if it did, that would be why it took so much willpower to resist, she certainly wouldn't want to fight it.

Hermione felt one hand carefully raised, the back became coated in a thick heavy cream which was then slowly massaged into the skin, one finger at a time, this was repeated on the other hand and then on both of her feet. Another substance was then applied to her palms and the souls of her feet, she tried not to jump at the tickling sensation across her instep. This had a very different consistency to the heavy cream, it was more oily and slippery, leaving her skin feeling much more silky, it left a tingling warm sensation in its wake, the strong scent of peppermint drifted to her nose.

"Tea tree oil". She thought vaguely as her skin continued to tingle and cool.

"Would you like to replace your robe before I file and polish your nails?" A soft female voice asked.

Hermione's therawitch had returned to the room, the moist warm towels which had previously brushed over her body had been replaced by one large warm towel which lay across her torso, hiding her modesty and keeping her from chilling.

Hermione's eyes finally drifted slowly open, the blonde witch, with the whitest teeth Hermione had ever seen, smiled brightly at her patiently waiting for an answer, as she held out the waffle gown she'd worn earlier.

"Yes thank you."

Hermione replied, returning her smile, a little self-consciously, trying not show too many teeth of her own. Her parents might have been dentists but even she could not boast teeth that resembled a toothpaste commercial.

The willowy, attractive blonde handed Hermione her robe, turning discreetly away to face a vast array of coloured polishes, as she slipped it back on.

"Is there a particular colour or shade you would like to use?" The therawitch asked, looking from what appeared to be a hundred different coloured tiny bottles, to Hermione and back again.

Hermione hadn't given it a thought, she wasn't even aware there were that many different colours. She didn't paint her own nails very often, she really couldn't be bothered, and, in all honesty, they were rarely in any condition to warrant the effort, if she did, well it was usually with a clear varnish or something very natural. The three weeks she had spent in the Caribbean on her last assignment had given them a chance to grow and for once they didn't look too shabby. She wriggled her toes, glancing down at her feet, those three weeks in Jamaica had also given her usually pale skin a healthy looking tan and Hermione decided to make the most of it, even if she was the only one who was going to see it.

"A nice bright red I think." She said adventurously, giving another self-conscious smile to the willowy blonde.

The young woman positively beamed, almost blinding Hermione, returning with a handful of tiny bottles which matched the criteria. Truthfully Hermione wasn't sure she could see that much difference between any of the bottles they all just looked red to her.

"Vampire Blood, Berry Broomstick, Cherry Cauldron" The therawitch, began to read the labels.

"That one looks nice."

Hermione said, pointing to one of the tiny bottles in her own well-manicured hand, her eye catching one containing a shade which did look brighter and deeper than all of the others. Again she was almost blinded by a dazzling smile, the therawitch's eyes sparkling almost mischievously.

"Scarlet Veela" She said, that same air of mischief in her tone.

"Excellent choice, excellent." She enthused accioing a small stool and beginning to paint with lightning speed and expert precision. That wry smile still curving her lips, the devilish little twinkle still glinting in her eyes.

Hermione watched as the seemingly quite ordinary red polish coated her fingernails. It was of course magical polish, which meant it wouldn't chip or peel, and would remain bright and shiny until Hermione or another therawitch cast a removieo spell upon it.

"It's a lovely bright colour." Hermione said, wiggling her fingers and holding her hand into the light.

The therawitch moved to her toes, there was that smile again and that inexplicable little twinkle.

"It makes the wearer feel very feminine and sexy." The blonde witch said, sitting back to admire her handiwork.

"Right!"

Hermione tried to hide her amusement and conceal any scorn in her voice, fearing she might offend the other woman. It was red nail polish, a very nice shade of red admittedly, exceptionally bright but still it was just red nail polish. Okay, it did make Hermione feel a little more feminine but then anything girlie she didn't do as a matter of course made her feel that way, a darker shade of lipstick than she would usually wear, a little extra mascara, or Merlin forbid a squirt of perfume all made her feel more feminine, when she remembered or had to make a special effort.

"Well I certainly feel more feminine already." She complimented the therawitch.

"Thank you."

The blonde gave her another of those smiles, this time her eyes were lit with a knowing look, but she said nothing, as Hermione rose and left the room.


	2. The Wizard of Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a relaxing afternoon in the spa, it's time to enjoy a cocktail in the bar...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thank you all as ever for lovely comments, it's nice to be back writing again, and so good to have so many of my regular readers along for the ride.
> 
> Someone in a review told me not to rush the story, and its funny because it was already what I was thinking. So you might find updates a little less frequent than before, but hopefully you all know me well enough to know they are coming and I won't leave you in the lurch :-) . So that said, Chapter two, for anyone interested the title of this chapter comes from From Russia With Love, you might spot the other references, which are fun for me to drop in, but that's just me being a nerd! Apologies for any errors as always, whatever they maybe.

The Firefly Country Club, Hotel and Spa boasted three elegant well stocked bars, according to its glossy advertising brochure. Laxos, and the Libro and Ludos Bars. Hermione wasn’t really too fussed where she got her Kir Royale as long as the champagne was perfectly chilled and there was a nice comfy chair for her to relax and enjoy it in, she was however drawn to the Libro…somethings never changed. 

Just like Tiffy, the house elf tending the bar was wearing a surprisingly clean, almost smart tea towel like garment. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder how this this could be, presenting house elves with clothing freed them, either they must really like working here or perhaps there was another more sinister explanation. Hermione’s keen mind and Unspeakables training went into overdrive as the small creature flicked its long bony fingers and her sparkling drink manifested itself on a small circular paper mat, with the gold F embossed in the centre. She fingered the scalloped edge still pondering the thought.

There were plenty of chairs and sofas that one could sink and relax into, scattered about the Libro bar, but Hermione had to admit the so-called bar stools were ridiculously comfortable. They were almost full Chesterfield chairs just taller, so you could sit with ease and no loss of comfort at the highly polished long wooden counter. Their rich oxblood leather upholstery and deep curved arms complete with brass nail heads was thick and soft, the adjustable footrest ensured that patrons of any height would be comfortable. Always vigilant, or perhaps in tonight’s case nosy, for Hermione Granger the best feature about the elegant stools was the fact they swivelled a full 180 degrees, allowing her to take in not only that well-advertised fully stocked bar, but also the vast array of beautiful books and of course the other guests who were also partaking in a pre-dinner drink.

She raised the tall very thin glass to her lips, her Vela red painted nails glinting against the brittle crystal.

“Oh that’s bloody good.”

Hermione muttered quietly to herself, replacing the glass onto the tiny frill edged mat. Noticing her lipstick had left an almost perfect imprint on the narrow rim, she instinctively licked her lips, tasting the champagne and cassis against the makeup.

Having felt so relaxed after her afternoon in the spa, the young witch hadn’t been of a mind to go down to any one of several eating options the plush hotel also _boasted,_ room service and her pyjamas seemed a much better option. The idea of dressing up for dinner, let alone apply make-up of any kind, filled her with horror, but something had inexplicably changed her mind. She’d glanced cynically at the bright red nail polish, shaking her head.

“Ridiculous” She’d muttered before duly getting herself dressed and applying those seldom worn cosmetics, which included an extra brush of mascara, not to mention a lip gloss which was almost as vividly red as her sparkling nails.

She now found herself looking a lot more glamorous than usual in her down time, sitting in an extraordinarily fancy hotel, sipping an expensive cocktail.

“What the hell!” She thought, she’d been ordered to relax and enjoy herself. She didn’t normally take advantage of the Ministry, but if they wanted to send her away for a long weekend at their expense, to “recharge her wand”, then who was she to argue with Ralph Messervy. She took another long savouring sip of her Kir Royale, swivelling her stool to take in her surroundings and the other patrons once more.

Pulling her attention away from the extensive library of books around and above her, she would definitely take a look at those in more detail before the weekend was over, her attention fell upon two people just across the room playing wizard chess. They were seated in two green leather, wing back chairs in a small alcove by the French doors overlooking the gardens. Hermione could see one of the men clearly, he was facing her, his long fingers were steepled at his chin, his spectacles rested on the end of a sharp nose and his deep-set eyes were dark with concentration. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, Hermione saw one of the tiny carved figures get up and move, withdrawing its sword and promptly decapitating the opposing piece. She couldn’t see the other man, well not all of him. A ringed hand and dark sleeved limb, rested on the arm of the chair, what appeared to be rather long legs were crossed ankle to knee, they were equally darkly clothed, and finished with a well-polished black boot. The rest of him was somewhat annoyingly obscured by the high back and wings of the chair in which he sat. The jewelled hand lifted and picked up a heavy crystal tumbler, containing what looked like a hefty measure of Firewhiskey, the bar was relatively hushed, and Hermione was just close enough to hear the ice in the glass chink as he lifted it. Hoping perhaps he would move forward just enough to slake her curiosity, he didn’t, simply taking the glass to his lips before replacing it on another of those scalloped edged embossed mats.

Hermione shifted a tad in her own chair, leaning forward a little more than was necessary to once again pick up her own glass, still the other man remained hidden from her line of vision. It really wasn’t that important, inquisitiveness just went with her job. She drained the remainder of her cocktail, it really was good, and had gone down very well and rather too quickly. Again a “what the hell” raced across her mind, this one came with the justification that she didn’t have to get up for work in the morning so she would definitely obey the last order Ralph Messervy had given her and enjoy a drink or two…

“Another please.” She said to the questionably smart house elf. Her curiosity once more kicking in.

“Hmm perhaps I’ll ask Tiffy.” Hermione mumbled to herself, she had after all said if there was anything Hermione wanted or needed.

“Did you need something else?”

The bartending elf had obviously heard Hermione’s muttering and thought she required something more.

“Oh no sorry, I just thinking aloud.” She apologised, smiling at the small creature who put another inviting cocktail on a new scalloped edged, embossed mat.

Hermione took another sip, certain the second wouldn’t be as good as the first, she was right and wrong at the same time, it was even better. The cold bubbling champagne mixing perfectly with the dark purple sweetness of the blackcurrant, she almost sighed aloud, but was mindful of the keen eared house elf. She simply savoured it inwardly, swivelling on her Chesterfield stool once more.

“Queen to king four…”

The low instruction drifted to Hermione’s equally keen ear, her lips stilling against the rim of the tall glass, the liquid inside fizzing against them. Her brown eyes swept slowly across the room, back in the direction of the two men playing wizard chess. The small queen had risen elegantly from her black square and was moving with equal elegance and slow determination to the new white one where she came to rest. The young witch watched intently, the tall slender glass still only millimetres from her shiny red lips. The man she could see, raised his dark deep-set eyes from the chequered board, looking squarely at his concealed opponent. This time his arm rose to move a piece, pushing over his bishop in defeat and nodding his head in acknowledgement of being beaten. The hand of his obscured opponent once again came forward to the heavy glass tumbler containing his Firewhiskey, this time he lifted the small white scalloped edged mat too, leaning forward ever so slightly to dab his mouth with it. The movement revealed only a small amount more of him, Hermione had thought surely it can’t have been when she’d heard the four brief, curt words, but as a mane of blonde hair fell in front of the wing of the chair, her thoughts were … oh yes it could be, and it was. Lucius Malfoy had indeed expertly check mated his opponent.

She finally took the swig of the cocktail which had been resting against her lips, almost suspended in time. Her eyes remaining fixed on the still partially obscured figure, she sat back in her own chair, Hermione had for some reason been keen to see who the other man playing wizard chess was, now with the revelation, she wasn’t so keen herself on being seen. But just like with the burning question of the house elves attire, the Unspeakable training in the young witch, not to mention her naturally insatiable inquisitiveness got the better of her, leaving a plethora of questions racing around in her head.

“What was Draco Malfoy’s father doing here? What was he up to?”

Reality, not to mention her own eyes, pointed out he was simply having a drink with a friend, playing chess, and like her probably just relaxing. Past history and perhaps an overactive mind told her, probably plotting and planning something and decidedly up to no good. Taking another sip of her cool drink, Hermione reminded herself that she wasn’t working, she wasn’t on any kind of assignment, she was here merely to _relax, recharge her wand and enjoy a drink or two._

As Lucius Malfoy rose elegantly from the chair and shook hands with the man with whom he’d been playing, Hermione quickly swivelled her chair around, facing back towards the bar. The noise level in the bar had risen considerably and she couldn’t hear any of their conversation, twiddling her tall glass around by its slender the stem, she surreptitiously watched the former death eater and his companion chatting in the mirrored glass tiles behind the rows of wizard and muggle drinks which graced the shelves. As an Unspeakable, Hermione’s job had taught her, not to assume that everything had ominous undertones, however it, along with her parents had also taught her there was no smoke without fire, and the Lucius Malfoy the young Hermione Granger had once know had been responsible for an awful lot a fire, it was difficult not to judge or hold the past against him. Despite her better judgement, her brain was already convinced that the innocent game of chess was in fact a plot for world domination, or at the very least a takeover of the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione reigned in her rampaging thoughts, once he left, she mused, she could forget all about what Lucius Malfoy was or wasn’t up to and return to her relaxing weekend, and right now more importantly her delicious cocktail. Glancing from the once again nearly empty flute, to the mirrored tiles, she was horrified to see that instead of leaving with his friend, Draco’s father was in fact heading towards the bar…towards her.

“Miss Granger…”

Urgh the hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck shot up, always expecting his slow, haughty and derisive elocution of her name to be followed by … “Draco’s told me all about you” …

Her fingers remained lightly touching the base of the glass, as she swivelled her chair in his direction, her brown eyes coming up slowly to meet his piercing pale grey.

“Mister Malfoy… fancy seeing you here.”

Various greetings jostled their way to Hermione’s brightly glossed lips, she opted for perhaps the safest and less antagonistic option, holding his gaze firmly.

“My regular Wednesday game with Adams.” He said dismissively, his voice having lost none of its aristocratic disdain.

“A decisive victory too, if I’m not mistaken.” Hermione said, still holding his penetrating gaze.

“What sharp little eyes you have Miss Granger.”

She didn’t miss his sharp patronising tone but resisted the retort which instantly sprang to mind. From the look in those cold pale grey eyes, suggesting Lucius Malfoy wait till he get to her teeth might not have been a smart move even for the feisty young witch.

“Very little escapes me, when I put a mind to it Mister Malfoy.” She responded pointedly.

“I’m not a very good player myself, but your game did catch my eye.”

He nodded his blonde head, his nostrils flaring at her words. The tiniest hint of a smile or quite possibly a smirk curved his thin lips.

“Whilst I am certain that very little escapes the brightest witch of her age and Ministry of Magic’s shining light, I sincerely doubt that there is anything that you are not very good at.”

There was almost a compliment in his words, all be it a very backhanded one, Hermione didn’t respond, noticing him glance irritably about the bar, quite possibly looking for the absentee house elf who had been tending the bar. Hermione pitied the elf when it returned.

Those piercing pale grey eyes flashed appraisingly over her, before returning once more to her own warm brown, a hint of blue flickering in their depths, continuing to hold his gaze, she slowly picked up her glass, finishing the small amount of liquid sitting in the bottom.

“Have a drink with me.”

It was more of a command than a request, Hermione smiled politely, about to slip from the tall Chesterfield stool and decline. Before she had the chance, her glass refilled, a heavy glass tumbler floated down from one of the shelves, three large cubes of tinkling ice appeared and where promptly covered with a generous serving of Firewhiskey.

This time a much darker brown collided with the palest blue grey, and Hermione pushed herself back into her seat, she’d endured worse company in her job than Lucius Malfoy, the sparkling drink, certainly made his presence more tolerable, and despite everything, she had a feeling he might make interesting company. A few minutes of verbal sparring would certainly liven up her evening, perhaps she might even learn more about his _plan for world domination._ She bit back the little smile which tugged at her mouth.

“Hmm what will the hotel Manager have to say about guests helping themselves?”

Hermione said, her fingers caressing the chilled stem of the fluted glass.

Those cold pale grey blue eyes actually twinkled, as Lucius Malfoy’s own long fingers curled around the heavy tumbler, the ice chinking even louder as he raised it firstly to Hermione and then to his mouth. Hermione’s eyes involuntarily drawn to each deliberate movement.

“Oh nothing Miss Granger, I own the hotel.”


	3. Rouge et Noir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for lovely comments. Glad you are enjoying this little bit of fun, combining two of my favourite literary series. Chapter title comes from Casino Royale for anyone interested.
> 
> So apologies for any errors as ever and please continue to enjoy...

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure if she was surprised by Lucius Malfoy’s admission or not. She was however more than a little shocked that under these circumstances Ralph Messervy had chosen this particular location for her long weekend. Maybe he, and the Ministry were unaware that the former Death Eater was the proprietor, she certainly had no idea, but then she’d hardly kept tabs on the man’s activities in recent years, but she very much doubted the Ministry had been so lax. Suddenly it occurred to her, perhaps that was precisely why she had been sent here … but surely RM would have said something … wouldn’t he?

The blonde man was still watching her intently, although those pale blue grey eyes of his seemed have taken on a much more indolent look as his sipped his Firewhiskey. Hermione contemplated her response carefully, two years as an Unspeakable had taught her, many things, thinking before you spoke, and not rushing into situation were up there near the top. 

Lucius Malfoy was a wizard with an ego, a large one as she recalled, to pander to it would definitely be the best way of getting the most out of him, but whatever you thought about the man, he was also nobody’s fool. Their personal history, albeit brief, was hardly affable, pander too much and he would see right through her, Hermione had to find some middle ground, something that would both pander and possibly offend him, just a little bit, at the same time. She lifted the tall wafer thin flute to her lips, taking a mouthful of the recently replenished glass. Her third she silently reminded herself. Hermione’s eyes glanced appreciatively around the room before once more coming back to meet his.

“It is a beautiful place.” She observed quietly, leaning forward just a tad flirtatiously in her seat.

“You have done very well for yourself Mister Malfoy.” She gave him a small smile, allowing her red lips to part slightly.

“But then I would expect nothing less from you.” Hermione ran the very tip of her index finger along her bottom lip before moistening it with her tongue.

She wasn’t averse to using her femininity or her wiles, but always with caution, weighing up both the situation and the subject with great care. Even if she wasn’t on assignment, Hermione Granger knew Lucius Malfoy would be as extremely a formidable adversary as he was a man.

His pale eyes watched her every move over the rim of the heavy tumbler, as he lowered it Hermione noticed a decided curve to his cruel mouth, his eyes had darkened and narrowed. Bullseye, she mused silently, waiting for his response.

He too leaned forward in his seat, his body language equally if not more flirtatious, his lustrous blonde hair falling over one shoulder with the slow deliberate movement. Hermione was immediately ingulfed in a waft of spicy, very masculine cologne, she didn’t move or react, but could not stop herself from inhaling deeply, an action she also tried to conceal. From an early age Hermione Granger had not been intimidated by Draco’s arrogant, self-important father, she had to admit though, if only to herself, now she was much more aware of him and it was not just the cologne which exuded such latent masculinity.

That same indolent look she had seen in his eyes was back, and this time it certainly wasn’t fixed, it travelled lazily from her red glossed mouth, down her neck, flickering over the deep vee of the black silk shirt she wore. Part of Hermione wished she’d done up that extra button after all, as with the same indolence, he took in the creamy, lightly tanned valley it revealed. The other part of Hermione felt her skin flush sensually, heat rising and not just in her face. She fought every nerve in her body, every instinct that urged her to move, shift in the chair, but she didn’t even blink. 

“Thank you, Miss Granger.” He said, his grey eyes finally drifting just as unhurriedly to meet hers once more.

They had both leaned towards each other to speak, and he remained almost threateningly close as he continued to do so. That pale gold hair of his cascading freely, stark against the blackness of the shirt he too wore.

For the briefest of moments Hermione’s gazed dropped, his shirt was also unbuttoned at the neck, ridiculously expensive cotton, she thought silently. Heat once more suffusing not just her face as she noticed the merest smattering of dark blonde hair peeping from beneath an extra button that he too should have fastened, how very Mugglelike, she observed, her eyes quickly coming back up to his, just as grey with that hint of blue twinkling in their cold depths.

“I could say the exact thing about you.” He said slowly, almost drawlingly.

“Quite beautiful, and you have done very well for yourself, but then I too would expect nothing less.”

Compliments? No he was mocking her! But his strong features were mirthless, his tone laced with an oddly flat sincerity.

Of course he was the owner, he had to be nice to his customers, she was also a Ministry employee, but when Hermione had envisaged a little verbal sparring with the Dark Wizard, this certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Undoubtedly, he was playing her at her own game, the trouble was Hermione wasn’t exactly sure what her game was. Or if it was as a game she could afford to play.

When she was on assignment for the Ministry, her lines and parameters were very well drawn and exceptionally clear, as was what was expected of her. But she wasn’t on assignment, not that she was aware of anyway, whatever she might have wondered. There were no well-drawn lines, no clear parameters, and nothing was expected of her, not professionally at least. 

“We have obviously _both_ done very well for ourselves.” Hermione said, glossing over his compliment with a little sarcasm.

He remained ominously close to her, lifting the glass back to his mouth and taking another slow, deliberate mouthful of his Firewhiskey, the gradually melting ice still chinking musically in the glass. His smile was equally as slow and just as menacing.

“People like us know how to survive.” An almost sly undertone laced his aristocratic tenor.

It was an odd thing to say, and she knew he was alluding to more than just himself.

Those outside of the Ministry of Magic didn’t know what Hermione actually did. Since the Second Wizarding War, the Unspeakables section had gone very much undercover, their identities were fiercely protected and kept a closely guarded secret, for their own safety and for the success of the missions that they undertook, on paper and to those outside, they all worked for the department of Import and Export of Magical Items.

Hermione’s instincts rarely let her down, and she got the distinct impression from not only his turn of phrase, but from the lingering glint in his eyes, Lucius Malfoy knew a lot more about what she did for a living than he should. The possible how, posed yet another question the young witch would very much like answered, she was gaining quite a list, the elves and their chic t-towels aside.

Whilst she might have been the one with a plethora of unanswered questions racing around in her brain, they remained unasked. The Dark Wizard obviously had his own level of curiosity was clearly not so reticent about voicing it.

“So Miss Granger, what brings you to Firefly?”

There was that small curve to his mouth again, as if he knew precisely why she was here, but simply wanted to hear what she had to say.

“If it is business then I would know all about it.” He went on without waiting for a response.

“Which leaves _pleasure,_ in which case I definitely _should_ know all about it.”

The gentle emphasis and the way he uttered the word _pleasure,_ the last part of his sentence and a now, what Hermione could only describe as wicked glint in his eyes, sent a tingle of apprehension dancing along her spine. However it wasn’t apprehension which raced to other parts of her body, and she silently chastised herself for that third Kir Royale. Also blaming the cool, fizzy cocktail for the warmth which flushed her chest, crept gradually up her neck and threatened to sting her cheeks. She also felt uncharacteristically flirtatious, something else the alcohol was no doubt responsible for, she twiddled the base of her glass, the scarlet nail polish shimmering back at her. Again Hermione banished the ridiculous notion about the effects it had on the wearer, magical or not it was just polish.

“Well, if you definitely should know all about it … my visit is strictly pleasure.”

Baiting Lucius Malfoy might not be her wisest course of action, but right now it was rather enjoyable, fraught with perhaps more than a little danger, but nonetheless entertaining. And nothing she couldn’t handle…

“Enforced pleasure.” She added teasingly, watching a curious brow rise.

“Hmm _enforced pleasure.”_ He repeated, a second brow joining the other.

“Now that does paint a very intriguing picture Miss Granger.”

Hermione could only but image the picture her words had painted in his mind, it hadn’t exactly been her intention, that had simply been to increase his curiosity, that mission had certainly been accomplished. 

“Alas Mister Malfoy not perhaps as intriguing as you might imagine.”

Best to rein his thoughts in before they got too much out of hand, but just a little.

“Apparently I am very naughty.” Her tone was husky and a little conspiratorial, her words loosening the reins just a little once more.

“I don’t take enough time off from work, so my boss gets annoyed with me. I’ve just returned from a particularly busy trip overseas.”

She watched his reaction carefully, all she saw in his pallid face was further intrigue, pondering just where his imagination was taking him.

“He insisted that I take a few days off, knowing exactly what my reaction would be, he had his assistant, arrange this.” She gestured around her for effect.

“That way, I simply couldn’t say no.”

Although she wasn’t on assignment, Hermione always stuck to as much of the truth as she could. She had an excellent memory, she had to have, but why make life any more difficult, sticking as close to the actual facts made life a lot simpler.

“It was somewhere warm?”

His question caught her off guard, again not the response she had anticipated. Wondering what he meant, her own neatly plucked brows knitted together questioningly.

“Your trip overseas, it was somewhere warm. Even in this light your skin looks …”

Those silvery blue grey eyes of his accentuated his point, taking in the skin he could see, her face, her neck, perhaps a little too much of her breasts as they rose and fell against the black silk of her shirt and that retched unfastened button. The rest of her skin warmed at the thought of what he couldn’t see.

“Sun kissed.” He said seeming to relish his own choice of words, his lips curling in another small, knowing smile, as he raised his glass to them once more.

Under the heat of his gaze, Hermione felt as if her clothing had either fallen away of become transparent, but stood or rather sat her ground serenely, answering his questions easily and without preamble. 

“The Caribbean.” She offered, not narrowing down the location any further.

“So yes it was very warm, even working I managed to catch a little sun.”

“It’s very becoming.”

Normally if she wanted to, Hermione could hide a little behind her hair, allowing it to fall across her face or perhaps run her hands absently through it. After an afternoon in the spa, even wrapped in a towel, and following almost a month in the sun and a certain amount of sea, Hermione’s slightly shorter, but still wilful mane of hair was not of a mind to be tamed. So after a couple of failed attempts to straighten it, she had secured it severely in a ponytail and applied some ant frizz serum, the two things left her nowhere to hide from Lucius Malfoy’s second forthright, uncharacteristic and totally unexpected compliment.

“We have an excellent solarium here at Firefly, should you wish to keep it, topped up, I think is the expression they use.”

Hermione suddenly found a smile tugging at her lips, whilst the Dark Wizard, seemed more than at home in his own bar and she felt certain in the more traditional rooms of his hotel, she really couldn’t envisage him enjoying the benefits of the spa. Those silky blonde locks tethered in one of the fluffy white towels as green slime was applied to his face, although looking at his flawless complexion perhaps it was not so far removed from the realms of possibility. Her line of vision immediately shifted to the long fingers clasped around the crystal tumbler, his nails were short, blunt and well buffed, his hand looked ridiculously soft. Perhaps Lucius Malfoy did indeed indulge in the odd treatment or two after all, come to think of it, he’d always been a vain man, preoccupied with his appearance, and actually the more she thought about it, the more she could see it, it was perfect for him. Even if he might not be averse to a facial, or a manicure, she very much doubted the pale skinned former Death Eater was a regular visitor to the solarium. She might be able to picture him draped in a small towel with that vindictive pigmy troll tap dancing on his broad back, but even her powerful imagination could not stretch to seeing him languishing on a sunbed, wearing the requisite blackened goggles getting an all over tan… Naked, her brain swiftly supplied for her, the small towel from the massage vanishing and a graphic image of a completely naked, prone Lucius Malfoy manifested itself.

“It’s first rate so I am told.”

His words confirmed her suspicions that the pale skinned Dark Wizard, had indeed not frequented the solarium. This affirmation however did little to dispel the picture which seemed to have engrained itself on her brain. She took in the man seated, still very closely before her, clad just as she was from head to toe in black, the expensive cotton shirt, the well-tailored trousers, and the fine leather boots, clothed, she assured her brain, but still the image would not go away. She licked her suddenly very dry red glossed lips, noticing Lucius Malfoy’s eyes watching the action attentively. That same wicked indolent look in them, and a now very definite curve to his mouth.

“Have you eaten Miss Granger?”


	4. A Piece of Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my thanks as always for comments and kudos. As I said at the start updates will be regular, but sometimes just a little longer so I hope t isn't spoiling your enjoyment.
> 
> As before if anyone is interested chapter title comes from, From Russia With Love, as always I apologise for any errors blah blah ...

For some reason, Hermione assumed that Lucius Malfoy’s question had been to seek a culinary review of the food served at Blades, his five Merlin starred restaurant. She therefore didn’t give her quick response a second thought.

“No, not yet.”

She envisaged slipping from her tall seat, politely excusing herself from the Dark Wizard’s company and heading to the exclusive eatery or one of its counterparts at the Club. There was however part of her that was still keen to probe the somewhat enigmatic man a little further, the trained unspeakable, still convinced of world domination et al.

“Then please, as the owner and therefore technically your host, allow me to escort you to dinner.”

Whatever else he was, Hermione could not fault Lucius Malfoy’s manners, they were impeccable, his geniality as a host, utterly faultless. The glint of molten silver in his mesmerising grey eyes was just as unnerving as ever, but equally as beguiling at the same time.

The inquisitive Unspeakable in Hermione silently rejoiced. Some wine with dinner, perhaps a brandy with coffee, on top of the Firewhiskey he had already consumed, who knew what a trained operative like she could get out of the former Death Eater. The simple Hermione Granger groaned inwardly in equal silence, urgh dinner with Lucius Malfoy, no! And after three Kir Royale’s of her own, and perhaps that same wine with dinner, who was to say the tables would not be turned.

Job and an enormous degree of curiosity won the day, uncharacteristically flirtatious honey brown met that mesmerising and beguiling grey.

“That is very gracious of your Mister Malfoy.”

The tall blonde was no fool, and Hermione certainly didn’t want to arouse his suspicions by appearing too keen to have dinner with a man she had once loathed, a man who was hardly top of her Christmas card list even now, and of whom she was still incredibly wary and uncertain of. Nor did she want him to think that she had any ulterior motives for breaking bread with him. She covered her bases well, putting the quaffle firmly back in his court.

“But I am sure you have much better things to do with your evening than dine with me, and should be returning to Malfoy Manor.”

The thought of his cold, forbidding family home in Wiltshire sent and involuntary shudder of fear down Hermione’s spine, an old memory still etched firmly and painfully on her brain.

Perhaps it was because she had been younger, perhaps it was because of those involved, but her torture at Malfoy Manor at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange still haunted her more than any other situation Hermione had subsequently found herself in since becoming an Unspeakable, and there had been a few of those. She watched as Lucius Malfoy dismissively waved an elegant bejewelled hand, before returning it once more to toy with the heavy glass tumbler which held the dying remains of his Firewhiskey and melted ice cubes. His grey eyes were as cold as the dissolved ice.

“There is nothing to take me back to the manor.” He said flatly.

His tone was equally as frosty and was not open for conversation, nor did he elaborate any further on that particular subject. Both his eyes and his tone softened as he continued to speak.

“Actually I am spending the weekend here myself.” His eyes once again twinkled.

“I am hosting a small private party tomorrow evening and have some very important business associates to meet with.”

“Oh I bet you do”. Hermione mused silently, smiling at her companion. A picture of numerous former Death Eaters and Dark Wizards in a conclave somewhere in the swanky establishment coloured her mind. Plotting their takeover of the Ministry of Magic, some equally shady types from the US, conspiring a similar fate for MACUSA. The young witch desperately tried to rein in her thoughts, but then considering her last assignment, and the fact that this was Lucius Malfoy, she argued silently with herself, it wasn’t easy, he had to be up to something, didn’t he? It again occurred to her that perhaps this was actually why RM had sent her here.

The simple Hermione Granger found herself inexplicably more curious as to why there was nothing to take him back to his beloved Manor and his frigid wife Narcissa. Perhaps that question would be answered over dinner, the invitation to which she found herself graciously accepting.

“Well in that case how can I possibly say no?”

Perhaps her acceptance was more flirtatious than gracious, her own eyes glinting with the same mischievous intent as his, her lashes lowered just a little more than usual. Something her host took full advantage of as he slid gracefully from his own tall chair and offered her a darkly clad chivalrous arm.

There was of course a perfectly laid table ready and waiting for the owner. Pristine white linen embossed with the now familiar glowing Firefly logo adorned the small round table. Highly polished cutlery vied for position, amidst, paper thin crystal glasses of varying height and shapes, and a selection of delicate pink roses and white agapanthus. Hermione’s work had taken her to many glamorous wizarding places over the last few years, but she had to admit this was up there with the best of them. Its ambience and décor alone were worth three of those Merlin stars it had. No doubt Lucius Malfoy had had help with his interior design, but something told her he’d had his own ideas and input, not to mention the final say. And there was something oddly him about the place, a superior air, that olde world classical elegance, that simply reeked of the Dark Wizard. The pictures in the glossy brochure given to her by Lois Bliss were stunning, but like rest of the things she had seen and enjoyed, thus far, they paled into insignificance against the actuality.

There was no question that this was the best table in the house. Perhaps a little unnervingly, it was in an exceptionally secluded corner of the classically elegant room, it was also partially hidden by an intriguing concealment charm, which gave the illusion that it was simply another vast window overlooking the gardens, its occupants were therefore ensured of their privacy and remained unobserved, whilst themselves still be able to enjoy the atmosphere and the setting.

Hermione swallowed, her eyes drifting from the dusk lit elegance of her surroundings, to the dark elegance of the man on whose arm she entered the room. She was used to walking into dangerous, sometimes unknown situations, this was simply dinner, a piece of cake, but as her fingers brushed against the dark, soft cotton of Lucius Malfoy’s expensive shirt, she felt this was far more dangerous and decidedly unknown than anything that had preceded it.

Two even more wide eyed than usual house elves, in their mysteriously smart tunics hovered around as they escorted the Dark Wizard and his guest to the table, pulling out chairs and allowing them to sit down. Hermione noticed that Lucius Malfoy did not take his own place until she was fully seated, again those flawless good manners. The two house elves loitered momentarily, clicking their gnarled fingers so that napkins placed themselves gently in laps and iced water partially filled two of the many glasses. The young witch also noticed Lucius Malfoy cast a sharp look in their direction and the two hapless creatures promptly vanished with a discreet pop.

Hermione reached for her iced water, and taking a small refreshing sip she glanced around, no detail had been overlooked. Similarly as in the Libro, in the middle of the floor to ceiling windows were two French doors which led out onto a private, equally secluded terrace. In the fast fading light, small Firefly shaped lights shone in a twisted willow tree, a selection of heavy stone pots contained highly scented flowers and shrubs, Nicotiana, Jasmine and lily’s the size of dinner plates, all in bright white, glowed an oddly ethereal shade in duskiness.

“What is going on in that razor sharp mind of yours Miss Granger?”

Lucius Malfoy suddenly asked, his tone softly menacing, but velvety smooth and oddly sensual. 

Hermione lifted the crystal glass back to her lips, savouring the cold refreshing contents, it was a sharp contrast to the heat which was racing around her body.

“All very _female_ I have to admit.”

Her words, whilst intending to be completely innocent, seemed somehow naughty and were met with a dark blonde brow raised in curiosity.

The art of legilimency was a recognised skill within the wizarding community. Hermione however knew for a fact that it was not one which her dinner companion possessed. Thankfully as far as the knowledgeable young witch knew, x-ray vision was not a magical ability, not even for the darkest of dark wizards, but as Lucius Malfoy’s penetrating gaze again drifted appraisingly over her, she became a little less certain, trying not to shift in her seat. His pale grey, sometimes lightest of blue eyes glistened like polished cut diamonds. His expression totally implacable as he waited patiently for her to continue.

“Disappointingly _female.”_

She added, remembering where she was and who she was with. A second brow rose with equal curiosity, his eyes glinting an even more indistinguishable shade of blue grey.

“I was admiring yet more of your interior design, the elegance and attention to even the smallest of details, you have obviously given your hotel, country club…spa…”

She slowly quoted its title, watching a slow smile curl the blonde’s lips. Hermione found her own gaze drifting to his mouth, unable to draw it away as he spoke, the smile seeping into his tone.

“I detect a note of surprise at my décor, elegance, design…. taste.”

He mimicked her annunciation perfectly, his accentuation on the last word making it sound more than a little ambiguous.

A duel of words with Lucius Malfoy, Hermione could certainly manage, but only if she was careful, and not too guarded. Baiting him could certainly prove fun and also quite revealing, but it could also prove dangerous on very different levels. Hermione found the need to remind herself she wasn’t on assignment, but for some reason the reminder made things worse. Thinking of the man sitting opposite her as a job was fine, regarding him as a man, that was disconcerting.

“Hmm” She mused thoughtfully, drawing her attention from his ridiculously distracting mouth, and casting it pointedly around the stylish, beautifully decorated room.

“I don’t think even I could ever have disputed your elegance Mister Malfoy, your taste …”

Hermione left the word hanging, putting a little dubious phrasing of her own on it and leaving a _however,_ clearly omitted from the sentence.

“Well that one might say…could leave a lot to be desired.”

Their gazes once more clashed, both fully aware that she was not referring to his choice of wallpaper.

“That said…” She continued; her tone and look unwavering.

“There is something inherently _you,_ about this place.”

There was another somewhat rueful curving of Lucius Malfoy’s lips. As he tried to hide it, it gave him an almost sinister look, reminding Hermione, as if she really needed reminding, of exactly who this man was or at least had once been.

“Coming from you Miss Granger, and considering the reputation…”

There was that inference in his tone again.

“ _This place_ ” Again he mimicked her words. “Has, I will take that as a compliment.”

There was another discreet pop as one of the house elves reappeared. Hermione once more noticed that little flicker of annoyance in the blonde man’s face, and that same sharp dismissive look as he took the leather bound menus from the small creature. She in turn took one of them from Lucius Malfoy’s outstretched hand, whether it was by design on his part, or purely accidental, his long fingers brushed against hers. Outwardly, Hermione didn’t react or flinch, she was nonetheless acutely aware of his touch, brief as it was.

Avoiding the gaze she knew was still fixed on her, perhaps waiting for a response, Hermione opened the leather volume and focused her attention on the pale cream parchment inside and its array of gastronomic delights, talk about spoilt for choice. Her mouth was all but watering, her stomach reminding her that she hadn’t actually eaten since breakfast.

“Like the décor and ambience Mister Malfoy, the choice is sumptuous and certainly warrants a Merlin star or two of its own.”

She finally met that resolute look of his. The subdued lighting shadowed his face, highlighting both its cruelty and its handsomeness. The former Death Eater had aged surprisingly well, in fact it positively became him, he really hadn’t changed that much at all, on the surface anyway. His long pale gold hair probably had a grey one or two amongst its lustrous strands, but it suited him, not that Hermione was of a mind to bestow any more compliments upon him.

He inclined that blonde head in deference to her words.

“I am sure you will not be disappointed with _anything here.”_

There was that little inference to his aristocratic tone again, hinting at a double entendre which went with his glistening grey eyes, eyes which continued to study her fixedly.

This time it was Lucius Malfoy who raised the crystal tumbler of iced water to his lips. Hermione again finding herself watching his mouth, perhaps a little too closely. He slowly ran his tongue along them, savouring the cool clear liquid as if it were fine wine. She noticed a quirk, not a sneer, not a smile…but definitely a something.

“Is there anything you don’t like?”

His words were purposely paused, just enough to emphasise the innuendo, as he took another sip from his glass.

“Or are perhaps allergic to? He finished quietly and deliberately, holding the glass to his lips.

Almost mesmerized, Hermione shook her head, finding her own mouth suddenly very dry and not of a mind to respond at all.

“In that case perhaps you would allow me to order for you?”

The wicked quirk on his lips become an enquiring yet devilish smile.

Hermione’s eyes drifted, somewhat begrudgingly back to the menu in her hands. Truthfully there was nothing on the pale cream pages that she would not enjoy, it was impossible to choose. There was the odd thing she had not tried or tasted before, the innocuous thought, sent an unexpected wave of heat flowing through her body. She shut the leather bound menu quickly, her slim hand resting on the closed book. Scarlet Veela polish twinkled in the half light, almost with the same mischievous intent as the Dark Wizard’s pale grey eyes. Hermione silently scolded herself, her current state of mind having more to do with three pre dinner Kir Royale’s consumed on an empty stomach, than some magical nail varnish. She took a much larger mouthful of the icy cold water; it immediately refilled in the glass and drew her attention back to the man seated across the table.

“That would be lovely.” She said, intrigued.

Musing to herself that clearly his megalomania extended as far as taking over the ordering of her meal, she directed her amusement at him.

“And I must confess very interesting…”

The enigmatic man again just nodded his head in acquiescence.

Hermione noticed he hadn’t even opened the menu that the house elf had given him. It stood to reason that the chef would discuss the dishes with the owner, but it appeared that his particular owner knew exactly what was on the bill of fayre and had no hesitation in ordering, exactly what he wanted. A click of those long almost graceful fingers summoned one of the house elves back, to whom he gave their order with nothing less than succinct precision.

As bon vivant it came as no great surprise to Hermione that Lucius Malfoy would have an extensive and very refined palette. What did surprise her, was not only his choices but just how well educated he was about what they were eating. It seemed that the Dark Wizard, did more than just pass a cursory approving glance over the delectations served to his patrons.

“Do I detect another note of surprise Miss Granger?”

He asked, his voice was once again steeped in that softly menacing, velvety smooth tone.

Hermione was supremely annoyed with herself. Usually she was extremely adept at concealing her feelings and her reactions to things, and more importantly to people. They, and she appeared quite transparent to her dinner companion, and by association she again found herself pondering the x-ray vision theory, dismissing it as ridiculous. 

Hermione plunged a sparkling silver fork into the delicate steaming dish before her, carefully extracting a small gnocchi parcel from the gratin of hot stringy cheese, allowing it cool slightly before popping it into her mouth. She managed to avoid getting the soft melted strands on her chin, her lips were not so fortunate and necessitated some fervent and quite positively indecent looking lip licking. If she didn’t know better, Hermione would swear that the dish had been chosen for precisely that reason, she was equally certain that had there been asparagus or oysters on offer as a starter, one of those would have been gracing her plate now. Whatever the aesthetics might be, she was not afraid to play to her plainly captive audience, even if that audience was Lucius Malfoy. The explosion of delicious flavours overwhelmed her sense of taste, her others all busy elsewhere.

She finally addressed his comment, dabbing her mouth gently with the pristine white napkin, as he too wrestled with the warm stringy gruyere, obviously he hadn’t thought that out when he had ordered the same thing for them both.

“Perhaps I was a little hasty with the aspersions I cast upon your _taste.”_ This time there was no doubt as to what she referred to.

_“_ This is absolutely delicious. The surprise that you detected was at how involved you obviously are with the choosing of your menus and……”

She paused unable to resist another mouthful.

“How knowledgeable you are.”

She licked her lips, this time more for effect, having now quite skilfully mastered the art of eating the melted swiss diary product.

The Dark Wizard reached for his own embossed napkin, perhaps more to conceal a small smile than remove any stray cheese.

“A person should be au-fait with every aspect of their business Miss Granger. It is all in those small details you observed. I would look exceedingly foolish if someone, such as yourself asked me a question and I was unable to give them an informed answer _.”_

Ironically Hermione couldn’t agree more, she followed the exact same philosophy in her own job. Only for her, getting caught out could be a lot more dangerous than a bad review in the lifestyle section of the Daily Prophet.

“An admirable work ethic.” She concurred with her host, hopefully this time maintaining a much better façade than she had done previously.

Lucius Malfoy had for a second time ordered the same thing for them both, their rich creamy starter followed by a slightly simpler but equally as luscious looking main course. 

Hermione thought that the fine bone china plates had a thin black stripe just inside their edge, pondering how stylish they too were, as she looked closer, she realised the thinnest of thin lines was actually caviar. The costly delicacy encircling a filet of grilled Dover sole, almost as white as the plate upon which it sat, a small selection of glazed vegetables provided the only splash of colour amidst the monochrome. Them and a bottle of chianti which Lucius Malfoy requested without a second thought, a tiny amount of which had been decanted into another of the much taller glasses on the table.

This time Hermione did not even attempt to hide her surprise at his choice.

“Red wine” She observed, raising a neatly plucked brow at the dark red liquid sitting just in the bottom of his glass.

“With fish!” He finished for her, swirling the alcohol around in the bulbous goblet and raising it expertly to his aquiline nose.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes meeting hers over the thin rim, he took a tiny sip, allowing it to remain in his mouth for a few moments before finally swallowing and nodding his approval.

Hermione found herself watching every movement with utter fascination. His nostrils flaring appreciatively at the clearly pleasing aroma, his lips parting almost sensually to sip from his glass and his Adam’s apple bobbing in the pale column of his throat as he finally swallowed the small mouthful. 

“You are not a wine snob are you my dear?”

His eyes now narrowed over the lip of the crystal, his question was posed with the same slow deliberation he had used to taste the wine, drawing her attention back to the table,

Hermione had been accused of many things in the past, had even been called a variety of things but never a wine snob. His accusation causing her to laugh aloud.

“Hardly.” She said, her amusement still evident.

“It’s just, well on the occasions when I have been eating out the sommelier has always suggested white wine to accompany fish.”

She paused as without the aid of magic and with an incredibly steady hand he decanted a measure of the dark red liquid into her glass and then his own.

“I know absolutely nothing about wine.” She told him honestly.

“Other than what I like and don’t like, of course.”

After his comments about being knowledgeable in all aspects of his business, Hermione was expecting a detailed explanation as to why it was perfectly acceptable to enjoy a red wine with fish.

“Exactly! He said lifting her partially filled glass from the table and handing it to her.

This time there was absolutely no question as to whether the fingers which briefly brushed against her own was purely accidental or by design.

“And I prefer red.”

It was that simple, some things did not need a detailed or erudite explanation. What it came down to was what Lucius Malfoy wanted, Lucius Malfoy had, Hermione felt another of those sudden rushes of heat course through her body at the thought.

Hermione had assumed that having dinner with the former Death Eater and now proprietor of the Firefly Country Club, Hotel and Spa was going to a piece of cake. That she would be able to inveigle all sorts out of him. Instead, she had been given a lesson in business ethics and gastronomy. She might have discovered that he preferred red wine with his fish, and was somewhat of an expert on caviar, but she was none the wiser when it came to his reasons for not returning to his ancestral home in Wiltshire or who the business associates, he was meeting with were.

As foot high flash flames cast yet stranger shadows across his cruel, but oh so handsome face and engulfed their crepe suzette dessert, and the delicious sweet smell of heated Grand Marnier filled the air, Hermione began to realise, if she hadn’t already… the words Lucius Malfoy and piece of cake did not belong in the same sentence.


	5. The Persuader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments and Kudos, glad you are enjoying my little folly. The usual apologies for any errors etc. And with that ....

“Coffee and a small brandy?”

His question still sounded like a command as he pushed his chair back from the table.

After three kir royales and what must have been half of the bottle of wine, Hermione certainly wasn’t going decline the offer of coffee, she however doubted the wisdom of the brandy, no matter how small, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

“Or perhaps something else?”

Obviously interpreting the action as a distaste for the cognac, he continued undeterred.

“A Cointreau over ice.”

Lucius Malfoy went on smoothly in that same commanding and dominating tone.

Considering the fact she did not usually drink, well nothing more than the odd glass of wine, maybe two, Hermione felt remarkably clear headed. Which also considering the company she was keeping, was just as well and just as remarkable.

The dark wizard pushed his chair back a little further, the feet scraping lightly against the polished wooden floor, with a brief wave of his hand and a muttered incantation the French doors gently swung open, and a few more lights on the private veranda twinkled into life.

“On the terrace.” He suggested easily, but with that same sense of authority.

He now rose from his own seat, moving gracefully behind hers, his hands grasping the smooth damask covered back and allowing her to rise. Whilst continuing to exude that arrogant imposing air, his tone was now a lot more sultry and far more persuasive. Hermione constantly aware of his powerful presence, took a very deep breath.

“I’m sure we can find more _interesting_ things to talk about than Iranian caviar and my choice of décor.”

Yet again she was unable to refuse.

“Once again Mister Malfoy you make me an offer that I find impossible to refuse.”

His powers of persuasion were second to none, appealing to the inquisitive side of the young witch and echoing her own thoughts.

“Good!” He said proffering that familiar darkly clad arm and escorting her onto the small paved area beyond the windows.

The house elf was again summoned with an impatient snap of Lucius Malfoy’s long elegant fingers. He didn’t ask Hermione what she wanted, clearly taking her wrinkled nose as an indication of her preference. Simply ordering for her, two coffees, a rather large brandy and a Cointreau over ice arriving a few moments later.

Much like the table they had shared inside, the patio area had clearly been designed with seclusion in mind, for a romantic liaison, a business meeting or simply for those who valued their privacy. Hermione found herself wondering which category she fell into. Quickly dismissing her first thought and despite the conversation over dinner, this was hardly a business meeting. She was sure that a man like Lucius Malfoy did indeed value his privacy but only when it suited him, apparently this was one such occasion. Perhaps somewhat unjustly, she couldn’t even surmise that it was because he did not wish to be seen with a Muggle. He’d certainly had no issues sitting at the bar with her, he had been the one who invited her to dinner, even going as far as offering her his arm and walking unperturbed through his already busy restaurant. The romantic liaison flitted across her mind once more, it was poo pooed and banished with the same speed, it really was as ludicrous as her thoughts on x-ray vision, she was the last person on earth he would look upon in that light. But as the handsome dark wizard made himself comfortable next to her, the thought again reared its _ugly_ head.

There were two chairs on the cosy, intricately paved area, wicker with heavy plush cushions to sit on. There was also a smallish sofa, some might call it a love seat, Hermione felt her face flush, it was definitely a small sofa, it matched the two chairs and had the same heavy plush cushions which they now sat on. All three were effortlessly arranged around a hexagonal mosaic topped table, the tiny misshaped tiles in similar pale shades to the soft furnishings.

Hermione had for some reason assumed that her companion would sit in one of the chairs, wishing at this point that she had. That spicy, very masculine cologne of his, drowning out even the highly scented flora that surrounded them, filling her nostrils and making her all the more aware of his presence, as if that were possible.

For her to move at this point would look exactly what it was, and under no circumstances was Hermione Granger going to allow herself to be intimidated by Lucius Malfoy, not on any footing. But it wasn’t intimidation which was pumping around in her body or that she was so very conscious of.

The sip of the warming Cointreau over the tinkling ice did not help.

“You mentioned your trip overseas.” He all but drawled.

“That it was somewhere warm, but you neglected to say where it was you went.”

Of course, she hadn’t neglected anything, Hermione purposely hadn’t elaborated, not wishing to be drawn too much into that particular conversation. Her Unspeakables training had taught her to reveal little, or better still nothing at all, and where possible to answer a question with a question.

“Oh did I?

Her companion’s brows knitted together in an enquiring fashion, obviously, the Dark Wizard was very much intent in drawing her into that particular conversation, hopefully they could stick to the weather and the scenery.

“Ocho Rios, the Caribbean.” She volunteered easily, not wishing to appear too cagey, but at the same time not giving too much away.

“Ah Jamaica, very nice. That certainly explains the golden tan.”

Hermione’s _tan_ prickled with warmth under his cursory, but disconcertingly knowing glance, impressed with his geographical knowledge. She tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground the weather and the scenery.

“It was lovely, and fortunately I did have some time to enjoy the wonderful beach and relax by the pool.”

She wasn’t entirely sure images of her in a skimpy bikini, stretched on a sun lounger was entirely safe ground, but if nothing else, hopefully it was distracting.

“I would not have imaged that the Ministry of Magic had too many _Imports or Exports_ to deal with in such a far flung location.”

Nope, diversionary tactic failed miserably, talk of the local climate and vista of any kind was not what Lucius Malfoy had in mind. She gave him a small laugh, raising her glass to her lips but not drinking, she spoke to him over the rim.

“Unfortunately not usually, no.” She kept the regretful but amused note in her voice.

Keeping her response offhand and using the cover story she had been given by RM before her departure overseas.

“There were various items in a private collection there, the owner wanted some expert advice and asked the Ministry for help.”

She and the Ministry for that matter, were well aware that the former Death Eater himself still had a large collection of interesting magical items of his own, and she hoped this might deter him from asking too many questions.

“Ah I see, what a lovely job you have my dear, so much nicer than sitting behind a desk at the Ministry all day. And did you accomplish your mission?” He practically purred.

This time she did take a sip from her glass: It was just an expression and one she herself had used hundreds of times prior to becoming an Unspeakable, but of course since she had, it had taken on a very different connotation.

Hermione couldn’t put her finger on it, there was just something in that aristocratic tone of his, that he should use that particular idiom. Hermione got the same feeling that she’d had earlier in the evening, the man sitting beside her definitely knew more about what she did than he should, but how to draw him out without showing her own hand?

“Mostly, there were one or two loose ends that need tying up, but nothing that cannot wait, or that I will bore you with.”

As always, Hermione kept as much to the actual truth as she could, whilst maintaining her cover story, she certainly didn’t want Lucius Malfoy catching her out later. 

It was just as she had told him, the mission had mostly been a success, at least on the fact finding front. One particularly Dark Wizard who her section had been tracking for some time had reportedly shown up on the Island, that was of course the real reason Hermione had been sent to the exotic location. 

Intelligence had it that he was trying to rally support from former friends and far flung practitioners of the dark arts for some illicit end. Two such acquaintances had been captured by the local Aurors in Ocho Rios and questioned at length by Hermione. After several days, despite her own skilled powers of interrogation they had not been able to reveal all of the details of the plot, only their particular roles. Hermione had however managed to glean that they were part of a much larger puzzle, of which everyone had a very small piece, once they had all been recruited, they would be summoned together, the fragments slotted into place and the full picture revealed.

After a few more stressful, very tiring days and even the last resort of the application of Veritaserum they were still unable to reveal the whereabouts of the Mastermind behind the mysterious plot, Julius Nihil. It appeared he had been long gone, presumably moving on to some other past associates in another corner of the world. Finally conceding no matter how long she questioned them for, they would not be able to give her any more information, Hermione had obliviated their memories, enough only to eradicate their encounter with the aurors and her. The Unspeakables section were still of course very interested in the whereabout of Julius Nihil, the missing parts to the puzzle and of course the endgame, which had been code named Goldeneye.

“As long as the spectre of work isn’t lurking at your shoulder when you are supposed to be relaxing.”

There was that strange, almost knowing tenor again. Hermione wished she could slip some Veritaserum into Lucius Malfoy’s brandy, but that might not be as much fun a little voice in her subconscious suggested, she quickly shooed it away. She would have to use her own subtle powers of persuasion. The interrogational skills she possessed, directed her to change the topic, move onto something else, and the _subject_ might inadvertently revel something…

“No Mister Malfoy, I can assure you it isn’t. Not even the white sands of Oracabessa beach made me feel as relaxed as I do right now. Your lovely hotel and spa seem to be working their very own brand of magic.”

A self-satisfied look settled on his pale features at her compliment, just enough Hermione thought to herself, with her own amount of smugness.

Putting the large brandy goblet in which the orange liqueur had been served, back on the table, Hermione exchanged it for a bone china cup and the pungent aromatic black coffee, not really a good idea at this time of the evening, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to sleep very well anyway, her mind going off in far too many directions.

“So is your party for a special occasion?” She asked lightly, going with the change of subject,

She stirred her coffee absently and needlessly, not wanting him to think that she was probing, but simply making polite conversation.

The elegant blonde had left his own cognac untouched, he too opting for his strong coffee and stirring it legitimately, having added a small cube of brown sugar to his own cup.

His actions were unhurried and very deliberate, putting Hermione in mind of a sleek panther stalking its prey. The hooded look in his grey eyes, reminding her of Nagini, Lord Voldemort’s Horcrux snake, about to strike its equally helpless quarry. The soft but cruel mouth Hermione was so drawn to curved in a half smile, half grimace. 

“If only.” He said almost wearily, savouring his coffee as if he needed the infusion of caffeine.

“As I mentioned, it is for some business associates, a gesture of thanks to some for their support and assistance. For others whom I haven’t seen for some time, an incentive, one never knows when you might need their capital, influence and connections.”

Hermione was surprised by his candour and just how much he was prepared to share. Her sharp, but often doubtful, Unspeakables mind was even more intrigued by the possible guest list, certain that Lucius Malfoy still had some very dark and unsavoury associates, she listened intently.

“Fortuitously, they could all make this weekend.” He went on.

“Entertaining them, wining and dining them, it makes them feel important, keeps the wheels oiled and them sweet, I think is the phrase.

“A rather Muggle one.” Hermione couldn’t help but add.

His half smile increased as he traded the cup for his own brandy glass, taking it between his fingers and swirling the liquid gently around the bulbous goblet.

“For me you mean?”

Hermione said nothing, simply smiling at him in an if the wizard hat fits, kind of way. As he lounged easily against the back of the sofa, Hermione realised she had become oddly and rather quickly accustomed to his close proximity and his choice of seat.

“One must move with the times Miss Granger, encompass everything from all cultures and walks of life.”

His words were carefully chosen, there was an almost blasé resonance in his voice, but she could still hear the tinniest hint of condescension, confident his acceptance of _everything_ and possibly everyone had been more to do with necessity than him _moving with the times._

The Dark Wizard was as sharp as ever, not missing a trick.

“This time my dear I detect a whiff of cynicism.” He lifted his nose into the air for effect, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air, and her.

Whilst he might be happy to reveal, the Dark Wizard left her under no illusion that he was also just as eager to delve. Hermione felt heat suffuse her body, grateful for the dimness of her surroundings that he did not see the flush sting her cheeks, but her own wits and reactions were as keen as his.

“I was just thinking that this all-encompassing Lucius Malfoy is more a necessity than you _moving with the times.”_

There was a hint of laughter in her tone as she quoted his words, voicing her own thoughts with brutal honesty, tilting her head, almost daring him to respond. The duel of words had become one of subtle movement.

“A leopard doesn’t change his spots.” She added tauntingly.

He took another swig of his cognac, savouring the taste, still gently almost imperceptibly swishing the remainder of the dark golden liquid around in the glass, his eyes glinted.

“I am not one for clichés, the people can change etc etc, but you must believe that there is something different or I doubt you, especially you, would have agreed to have dinner with me.”

His eyes now twinkled brighter than the fairy lights around them, his tongue licking the taste of the brandy from his lips. Hermione pondered his words, wondering if the warming spirit tasted any different on them than it did in from glass. She was horrified at the path her own thoughts had suddenly taken, his words not helping as their bodily duel of movement continued and Lucius Malfoy leaned just a little bit closer, swapping his rapier for a much larger blade…

“Or perhaps you have an ulterior motive Miss Granger?” He all but whispered seductively.

A waft of the swirling brandy drifted to her nostrils, it mingled intoxicatingly with the scent of the man himself and Hermione found his proximity and perception increasing the flush of heat that flowed through her body.

“Hmm…”

Upping her own _weapon,_ she too leaned a tad closer, stretching passed him, what could only be described as teasingly, putting her cup and saucer back down on the mosaic topped table, raising just her eyes to meet his as she once again wrapped her slim fingers around the crystal goblet.

That Unspeakable training had not only taught her to answer a question with a question, to reveal little or nothing, it had also instructed her to always get your _opponent_ to give something away first. She frowned at him, feigning just a little hurt in her big brown eyes.

“Me!” The horror struck flippancy in her quiet tone turned to one of dismissive impatience.

“Such as?” she continued, all the time baiting him.

Let’s see what Lucius Malfoy thinks I’m up to thought Hermione, draw him out, watching as his eyes narrowed and that mouth of his twitched hypnotically. An inexplicable tremor of anticipation danced up her spine as her fingers tightened around the short stem of the glass.

“Hmm…” This time he mimicked her response.

“Then again perhaps it is not you who has the ulterior motive.”

Hermione concealed her outright surprise at his admission, merely raising an eyebrow, not a question per se, although perhaps a thinly veiled one, or maybe a statement, it was however as good a tactic as her own and either way it sent both that fast flowing heat and the flush up in Hermione’s body.

“And do you have one Mister Malfoy?”

She couldn’t conceal her curiosity, but Hermione began to realise the question with a question was backfiring on her, feeling that their respective ulterior motives were _very_ different, although both could lead down very dangerous paths.

“Oh yes Miss Granger indeed I do, although if I confess what it is, it is no longer ulterior.”

The movement was barely perceptible, but in the same way his fingers had accidently brushed against hers, one long darkly clad leg came to rest lightly against her own. The action might have been cool, the touch light, but the heat it radiated was ferocious, reminding Hermione that she was playing with fire, but it didn’t stop her fanning the flames. 

She patted his knee almost condescendingly but playfully, her mind trying to stay one step ahead of him. The young witch weighed up her response thoughtfully, letting him see she was doing precisely that, her hand now just stilling on his knee, even with her tan, its pallor was stark against the darkness of his clothing. Her polished red nails glinting wickedly in the half light. 

“Well as you have already confessed to having one, I think you should go all the way, no sense in doing it half cocked.”

Beneath her fingers Hermione felt him shift ever so slightly, she could sense him fighting his reaction; to her calculatingly, provocative phraseology or her blatant tactility, she wasn’t sure which, she’d definitely stirred something, her eyes widened at the thought, directing them at him, soliciting a comeback.

“An interesting turn of phrase, but a point well made. Perhaps my motive is not so much ulterior, but as you put it earlier _very… male_.”

Hermione wore a delicate silver bracelet around her slender wrist, it had been a gift from Harry when she had joined the Ministry of Magic. It had five unobtrusive charms on it, two simple gold balls sat either side of two red heart shaped glass beads, at the centre of them all was an otter, its tiny paws securing it to the subtle snake chain. Lucius Malfoy’s fingers looked huge against them as he carefully moved them along the thin silver strand like counters on an abacus wire. The action was as erotic as it was menacing, she didn’t withdraw her hand which still rested lightly on his knee. The action no longer seeming condescending or playful just downright suggestive.

Hermione Granger remembered everything about this man from her childhood, from her teenage years. His arrogance, his cruelty, his bullying, his bigotry, his murderous intentions. Her blood chilled at the recollection but as his fingers brushed against her skin, it all but burnt.

Hermione Granger also remembered that the dark pureblood wizard had a wife, and whilst she might be able to put aside many things from the past for her job, the cold, haughty Narcissa Malfoy was not one of them. She glossed over his comment, returning to the subject of the party. Hoping it would detract him from where this thoughts and intentions were misguidedly taking him.

“And is your wife looking forward to entertaining your guests?”

He stopped _counting the beads_ on her bracelet, his fingers stilling momentarily against the silver metal. His thumb and forefinger grasping the small otter and twisting it around the chain, its tiny diamond eyes glinting up at him on every turn, fixating on him, just as Hermione’s were, waiting for his response.

Those penetrating eyes of his morphed from palest blue grey, to an ominous shade of slate.

“I think not.” He said, his brief laugh was hollow and lacked any mirth.

Hermione thought for a moment he wasn’t going to continue, that his clipped remark was enough.

“Even if she had been invited. Now she is the rather aptly Mrs Alexei Janus, I doubt she could tear herself away from her castle in St Petersburg.”

His tone was as dark and cold as his eyes and steeped in acrimony.

Hermione’s brain raced for more reasons than one, as it processed what he had just told her. Starting with his derision of her name. Rather aptly? She replayed his words over in her head, she was missing something, but didn’t dare ask…Ouch, suddenly the sickle dropped, Janus, a two faced Roman God.

Not having kept those tabs on the man’s activities in recent years the fact that he and Narcissa were no longer married had also passed her by, his clearly bitter and personal admission caught her off guard. For the first time she was unsure how to respond, his revelation also made her very aware that the Dark Wizard was now very much a free man, and that made him far more dangerous.

“And what of Mister Weasley?” He asked suddenly without preamble, his fingers moving to one of the small red hearts at her wrist.

“As you have been overseas with your work, I am surprised he is not here _relaxing_ with you.”

He was assuming that the jewellery she wore was from her former boyfriend. This time it was Hermione who strove to control her actions and her reactions, not wanting to unconsciously give anything away or let him think he had unsettled her. It wasn’t that he’d actually hit any nerves, her relationship with Ronald Weasley had ended some considerable time ago, and unlike the Malfoy’s it would seem, their split had been amicable. They made much better friends than lovers, and she and Ronald had remained the good friends they always had been. No, Hermione was just certain, however she reacted and whatever she said to him now, would determine what happened next.

Just as Hermione felt that Lucius Malfoy knew more about her work than he should, there was also the very real danger that he might already know that she and her old schoolfriend were no longer romantically involved and he was just testing her. The same way she could not be caught out by him, Hermione could not afford to be caught in a lie by Lucius Malfoy, not if she wanted to catch up on those activities and find out exactly what he was up to now. She doubted his trust was easily gained but was certain it was very easily lost. She pitched her response carefully but lightly.

“I don’t think Ronald’s girlfriend would like that.”

“Oh!”

She was unable to read much into his response, couldn’t tell if it was a surprised “oh” or a leading, pleased “oh”. She did however notice he had switched his attention back to the silver otter, and there was the tiniest quirk lifting his lips once more.

“In that case perhaps I could persuade you take a stroll in the gardens with me. I like to stretch my legs before bed _.”_

His face was totally impassive. His “oh” might have been unreadable, but his seemingly innocent “before bed” was fully loaded. A shiver danced along her spine, but heat coursed through her veins. The last tiny fragment of ice melted in her glass and her brightly polished nails sparkled almost gleefully, but the young witch was confident she could handle Lucius Malfoy.

Determined to keep the footing as even as it had been up to this point, unfazed and with equal impassivity she accepted.

“You have been very persuasive all evening Mister Malfoy, it would be churlish of me to refuse this one last time.”


	6. Very Softly. Very Slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for lovely comments and kudos. I am glad you are enjoying my little folly. Apologies as always for errors etc ....please read on....

If somewhere in her subconscious Hermione had been expecting the grounds to be anything like those at Malfoy Manor, save the size, she was very much mistaken. There was nothing remotely dark or foreboding about the gardens surrounding this particular Malfoy establishment, as with everything else she had enjoyed so far, it was quite beautiful and simply perfect.

They ambled very slowly and amiably through the highly scented and exotic flowers, walking under tall, majestic trees. Strategically placed lanterns that burned orange and pink subtly illuminated birds of paradise and orchids, whilst dark green lamps cast strange haunted shapes amidst the high oak branches. 

The once sneering pureblood wizard remained the genial and incredibly enlightened host, further impressing her with his expertise, pointing out specific plants and blooms. Of course there was still that part of Hermione that couldn’t help but contemplate if it was all a well versed façade, a front which went with the role he now played with such conviction and consummate ease, the real Lucius Malfoy that she knew and loathed hiding somewhere behind it, but he seemed to be enjoying himself far too much for that, and was the former Death Eater really that good an actor?

“These days. many of my guests enjoy a variety of Muggle pursuits, clay pigeon shooting, golf and tennis.” He offered conversationally.

Once upon a time Hermione would have been offended by his words, even if he did sound a little bit like his own glossy brochure, but there was no malice or derision in his tone as he escorted her into the walled garden. His hand coming chivalrously to her elbow as they ascended the small steps to the oval, lily covered pond, an unseen frog or toad croaking at their arrival.

“Beyond the arboretum just over there.”

He pointed to an ornate iron gate on the other side of the water feature. The movement treating Hermione to another waft of that now very familiar, very heady cologne.

“Are four tennis courts, they in turn boarder an eighteen hole golf course, as I said Miss Granger, one must be all encompassing when in a business like this.” 

Hermione might have once loathed Draco Malfoy’s hateful, sneering father, but there was no getting away from the fact that he was a very attractive, very charismatic man. She could clearly hear the delight in his voice as he turned to face her, his long lustrous blonde hair tumbling over one shoulder, shining in the numerous array of lights that twinkled around them, those same lights casting various shadows across those undeniably handsome features.

She nodded, smiling up at him, various very Muggle, very stereotypical images suddenly flashing through her mind. The Dark Wizard in a Barbour and flat cap shouting pull, clad in plus fours and argyle socks, grumpily chipping his ball out of a particularly nasty bunker, or best of all clad from head to toe in _white_ , serving his ball with well-placed precision across the net.

“Do you shoot yourself or play?” She couldn’t resist asking, the words seeming to take on a very different meaning as they slipped from her lips.

If he’d heard any double meaning in her question, he didn’t comment.

“I like to shoot, and I find a round of golf most advantageous when it comes to business. As for tennis the mastery and enjoyment of that particular Muggle sport is something which eludes me.”

Hermione bit her lip, managing to suppress her outright laughter, but unable to contain her response at the image he presented, together with the pictures her own mind had colourfully conjured.

“I must confess Mister Malfoy, whilst I can see you expertly brandishing a rifle and even striding victoriously across the putting green. The image of you dashing around the tennis court is not one which readily comes to mind.”

His grey blue eyes glinted and narrowed.

“Do you _play_ Miss Granger _?”_ He asked, a decided inference on the word play.

Oh he’d caught the double meaning alright. This time it was Hermione who ignored it.

“I used to play tennis with my father when I was younger.” She replied honestly to his enquiry.

“But I have never attempted to shoot, as for Golf, a famous American, Muggle author once said, Golf is a good walk spoiled, and I have to admit I would agree with him and quote you; the enjoyment of that particular Muggle sport eludes me.”

Another of those knowing looks flittered across his face.

“Mark Twain.”

Hermione was again struck with his breadth of knowledge, the surprise obviously reflected in her face.

“In business it also pays to show off with little snippets of information and the odd suitable quotation.” He replied to her unspoken question.

“Do you have anything planned for tomorrow morning?”

Just like his invitation to dinner, his unexpected question caught her quite unawares, making her response just as quick and truthful.

“No nothing, only a lie in past 6am.”

Although, despite RM’s instructions Hermione doubted that was going to happen, her disciplined body woke at a little before 6am every morning, even at weekends and on the rare occasions that she wasn’t working.

“Excellent, perhaps you would……”

His words were interrupted by a flapping sound, which they both turned towards, the wings of an approaching bird got louder and eventually a large owl landed on a low Cotswold stone wall beside the pond. Its huge orange eyes darted about, as if were conscious of being followed, its long ear tufts were raised, sensing alarm and the creature’s round head rotated ominously. The hooked beak that nestled against downy brown feathers viciously clasped a piece of cream parchment. Hermione and Lucius Malfoy exchanged glances; she shrugged her shoulders. Only RM and his secretary knew she was here, and she doubted unless any major disasters had occurred, they would want to disturb her. The man at her side stretched out his arm, removing the missive from the owl’s sharp beak with the same begrudging impatience that he had shown towards the house elves earlier. His displeasure at having his evening interrupted palpable, his brows knitting together as his narrowed eyes read the salutation. His frown became deeper, obviously, the note was addressed to him, he opened it without any fuss, reading it quickly. She saw those handsome features cloud, irritation and resignation seeping into his countenance.

“I fear I must cut short our stroll my dear, some urgent business that I must attend to immediately.”

He screwed up the piece of paper, tossing it into the air, he muttered an incendio, and the small piece of parchment immediately burst into flames, the fragile grey ashes dispersing on the evening breeze.

Hermione’s curiosity increased, but she didn’t dare contemplate asking what could be so important at this time of the evening, to drag him away so abruptly. She was also a little disappointed, much as she hated to admit it, she had been enjoying herself, the man she had once hated so much, was unexpectedly good company.

“Join me for a shoot at 8am, I’ll send a house elf to get you.”

Considering what she had told him, Hermione was surprised by, well she could hardly call it his invitation, by his command, but still eager to find out more about what this man was up to, and possibly what his urgent business now was, she readily accepted.

“I’d like that.” She agreed, keeping her tone light.

“If you walk down there.” He indicated a small archway in the opposite corner to the gate which lead to the tennis courts.

“It will take you back to the hotel.”

He gave her a polite, albeit slightly weary smile, Hermione could see his thoughts were elsewhere, visibly distracted by the message he had received. Whatever its importance, she assumed he would accompany her back, but evidently not, in a split second he apparated, leaving her alone with the haughty looking owl, who promptly lifted its vast wingspan and also departed, even the croaking amphibian seemed to have vanished too, the night air now utterly silent.

With just her burning curiosity and overactive thoughts for company, Hermione followed Lucius Malfoy’s directions through the jasmine covered pergola, it did indeed bring her to a pathway which lead directly back to the Hotel.

During the course of their interrupted stroll they must have moved to a move elevated point on the lush grounds, as Hermione found herself almost looking down on the splendid building. Like everything else it was skilfully lit, highlighting every inch of the magnificent architecture and its beautiful surroundings. Despite her initial reservations, she was glad RM had sent her here, and was determined to make the most of the time, relax and actually enjoy it, and of course do a little snooping.

Slightly to one side of stately house was a glass conservatory type structure, whether it had been part of the original construction Hermione very much doubted, she made a mental note to ask her host about it in the morning, but despite her thoughts, it didn’t look out of place at all. From her quick flick through the advertising brochure earlier, Hermione recalled it housed various hot tubs, and even a sauna. The thought of a tranquil hour soaking in warm frothy water certainly appealed to her, it might even help with the sleep she still felt would elude her. Hermione picked up her step and made her way back towards the glass domed structure and promise of warm relaxing bubbles….

Absolutely nothing had disappointed the young witch about this place, and she meant _absolutely_ nothing.

It wasn’t particularly late, but in the nicest possible way, Hermione felt as if she had been her forever. Her relaxing afternoon in the spa had drifted quickly and surprisingly into a very pleasant evening, pleasant and Lucius Malfoy, now those were three words that Hermione never expected to be using in the same sentence, but implausible as it might be, that was exactly what it was. A little voice which had earlier wondered what it would be like to taste fine cognac on his lips, now pointed out that a few short hours ago she had him plotting world domination. As Hermione removed her clothing and slipped into the huge wooden tub, she assured the little voice that she hadn’t totally discarded the notion, it just wasn’t at the forefront of her mind right now, unlike perhaps the man himself.

There were no mechanical whirring sounds as the dark clear water bubbled, there were no richly scented oils or creams, it simply frothed and lathered magically for maximum relaxation. The jets of magic increased, tickling and stimulating her body, Hermione savoured the feeling as it lapped against her skin. The large glass dome above her head wasn’t enchanted in any way, on such a beautiful cloudless night, the stars which filled the night air were all very real.

There was only a small wooden bench beneath her naked bottom, but Hermione was so comfortable it felt like a plush armchair. She stretched against those pummelling jets, they seemed to stroke and caress her body with a mastery all of their own, she once again found her thoughts wandering to the man with whom she had shared a dinner table. Her eyes drifted shut, the twinkling night stars were replaced by Lucius Malfoy’s own glittering blue grey eyes, they were as fathomless and deep as the luminous astronomical spheres, and just as mesmerising.

She couldn’t help but wonder how her evening would have ended had they not been interrupted. Hermione allowed her mind to wonder and to wander a little bit further. It was no longer the frothing warm water which caressed her skin, it was the Dark Wizard’s long elegant fingers, the bubbles which tickled and stroked her neck were replaced by his lips. She tried to open her eyes, but just as they had done earlier in the spa, they remained firmly closed and she gave herself over to the gushes which massaged her flesh well below the surface of the water, the gentle and not so gentle vibrations which rushed between her legs bringing her body even more alive. Would she actually have allowed a man like Lucius Malfoy to have touched her in this way, touched her at all…kiss her, to……

She put her more than wanton thoughts down to the alcohol she had consumed, it really was much more than she was used to, that and being so utterly relaxed, not having to think about work or needing to be somewhere was something else she wasn’t used to these days. It appeared the two things combined were a heady mix, making her thoughts run amok. But that was all they were, thoughts, the man himself having been taken away by business. She wrinkled her nose, again pondering the outcome of her evening, had he not been.

This was so unlike Hermione, a little spark of defiance also boiled beneath the water; Why was it she asked herself. She was a free agent, in every sense of the word right now. She was a young, not unattractive woman, she enjoyed male company, and quite honestly, she enjoyed sex, not that she’d had much time for either of late, her recent assignments had kept her very busy and she didn’t like to mix business with pleasure. Sometimes in her line of work, it was a necessity, but it could be dangerous and could easily cloud your judgement. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t business, not to her anyway, not at this moment at least, but she had a feeling he could undoubtedly be pleasure, there was that word in the same sentence as his name again. The thought fired the defiance and the sensations raging through her body, uncertain as to which one aroused her the most. Oh yes he would definitely be pleasure, but he could also be incredibly dangerous. Clearly her judgement was already more than a little clouded, but she wasn’t working, she’d been told in no uncertain terms to take the weekend off, what harm could it do if she chose to indulge in a little fun of her own? She argued silently with herself, still enjoying the thought of the Dark Wizard’s caress not the bubbling water.

Hermione remained curious about the owl he had received, but now she was as irritated as he had obviously been by its untimely arrival. Inhaling deeply in frustration, she could still smell that spicy masculine cologne of his, a small smile lifted her lips as she recalled his closeness over dinner. His fingers _inadvertently_ touching hers, his powerful thigh brushing against hers, her own hand resting playfully, yet suggestively on his knee. She imaged the same scenario now, this time their flesh naked as it touched calf to thigh, that playful hand of hers had now taken on far more provocative undertones as it connected with his skin. It wasn’t the warm water or the magically vibrating jets which heated her skin now or stimulated her sensitised body, she let out a small hum of appreciation at the thought, shifting against the tormenting current.

“Dare I ask what is going on in that razor sharp mind of yours now Miss Granger?” His very soft sexy voice asked slowly, sensually.

Her eyes wanted to fly open at the unexpected but welcome sound of his voice, part of her wanted to shrink a little further into the tub, she did neither. Her eyes fluttered very slowly open, glancing seductively towards that ridiculously sexy sound, one arm stretched along the edge of the wooden tub, a Veela red tipped finger danced against the rim of the sunken oversized barrel. In that split second Hermione Granger was determined to find out how her evening would, **should** have ended. Very softly and very slowly she too spoke…


	7. Naked Warfare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my thanks as always for kudos and comments, they really do give a girl heart to write. I love that one or two of you are spotting the Bond stuff, just a little folly of my own which is amusing me, but glad you are enjoying it too. So for anyone interested this chapter title comes from Thunderball, my apologies for any errors etc etc and I hope you enjoy...

She could see his reflection in the depths of the tub, the darkness of the water and the man who loomed above her surfacing in every shadow. She could almost fell his breath.

Hermione slid off of the wooden bench, turning her body fully around in the tub, her arms hugged the edge of the giant oversized barrel, and she let her chin rest on the back of her hands. Her gaze was level with his expensive well-polished boots, his feet slightly apart, and glinting between them was the silver base of his ever present cane, although come to think of it, she couldn’t remember seeing it early in the evening. No, she recalled, he definitely hadn’t had it when they were walking in the gardens, her thoughts were only momentarily distracted as her gaze continued to drift up the length of the Dark Wizard at a leisurely pace.

Hermione Granger had watched this man from the shadows as a child, he’d never know the tears she’d cried because of him, for herself, for her family and for her friends, was she really contemplating doing what she pleased with him now? Many times over the years she had thought about bringing him to his knees, and she certainly couldn’t deny she was having the same thoughts now, but in a _very_ different way.

Whatever had been going on in her mind when she posed the question to Lucius Malfoy, had increased tenfold compared to what was going on in her mind right now. Her eyes moved yet further upwards over those long darkly clad legs, noticing how unforgivingly and snugly his well-tailored trousers clung to his hips. She skipped his upper body until warm honey brown, met twinkling blue grey.

Once upon a time, an older, but still rather naïve Hermione Granger had contemplated revenge; it had been one of the reasons behind her joining the Unspeakables. She had always known Draco Malfoy’s father was a Death Eater, had stood at the side of Lord Voldemort, had been responsible for so much violence and hatred. But ironically her job had altered her perspective, it became about justice, not revenge, and keeping the magical world safe for the future, not dredging up the past.

But before, a hurt and vengeful Hermione Granger had envisaged getting him in her sights, setting a trap, if only she’d know it would be this easy, back then there would have been no time for sweetness, the idea of kissing him would have been an abhorrent bitter taste, not one laced with fine cognac. But now revenge was the furthest thing from her mind. Oh she certainly had this particular Death Eater in her sights, and she would hate to be this close and be denied anything, but what she wanted to do to him now bore no resemblance to what she had wanted to do to him for many years. 

Her breasts brushed against the rounded wooden side of the tub, bringing her back to the present, her nipples tightened with the friction, she withheld the little groan which burbled on her lips, the action giving her voice a husky tone.

“I was just wondering how our evening would have ended had we not been interrupted.”

Her words were almost coy, however her flagrant honesty, left little room for misinterpretation as to what might have been. Her sultry tone left even less room for misinterpretation as to what she wanted it to be.

Lucius Malfoy’s penetrating eyes never left hers, his clipped aristocratic tone as sultry and husky as her own.

“I told you Miss Granger, it was I who had the ulterior motive, and that it was decidedly … male.”

“Hmm” She mused aloud, licking her lips appreciatively. 

“I have to confess Mister Malfoy, despite your admission, I had poo pooed any notion that you would look at me in such a light.”

He kicked off his boots and magically discarded his socks, those eyes of his still firmly fixed on her.

“I am a man my dear not a fool, the two are not mutually exclusive. In _any light,_ you are a very beautiful and incredibly sexy woman.”

One large hand remained resting on the silver serpent head of the cane which sheathed his wand, a euphemism danced across her mind as the other rose to release the buttons on his black shirt. Hermione watched transfixed as those long elegant fingers, carefully slid each tiny one nimbly from its fastening, swapping his cane to the other hand as he removed his silver cufflinks and dropped them into his pocket, the black cotton shirt tugged single-handedly from his trousers and discarded. Her gaze might have skipped his upper body previously, but as his broad chest and powerful upper arms were fully revealed Hermione found herself drawn to it. Her eyes darting over the feathery covering of dark blonde hair which darkened even more as it tapered into a tantalising vee and disappeared beneath the waistband of those sharply tailored and now even more snugly fitting trousers. 

Her words might have left little room for misinterpretation, but his actions left none whatsoever.

She chewed on the inside of her bottom lip, both in nervousness and in anticipation, this was a cork she could definitely not put back on the bottle, even if she wanted to…she didn’t. Her eyes drifted appreciatively over his partially exposed body, was the Dark Wizard really going to strip?

With the same dexterous sleight of hand Lucius Malfoy released the button on his trousers, in the deathly silence there was a gentle whirring sound as he lowered the metal zipper and a dark mass of material pooled around his bare feet, answering her silent question. Hermione’s brain told her to worry her lip a little harder, instead she found herself licking it.

Seeing the fine cotton of his shirt, the exquisite tailoring of his trousers, Hermione’s brain had of course envisioned that Lucius Malfoy would enjoy only the feel of the best silk so close to his more intimate parts. In this instance the young woman was very much mistaken, pleasantly surprised _,_ and maybe even a tad shocked. Evidently Lucius Malfoy preferred something a little more abrasive next to his impressive, more intimate parts, the much rougher feel of the wool of those exquisitely tailored trousers. She might have been expecting dark luxurious silk, but there was _nothing_ , well nothing in terms of underwear anyway… his hard aroused body was as powerful and proud as the man himself.

The stopper was definitely out of the bottle, his _wand_ fully unsheathed. Hermione tried not to stare, moving her eyes begrudgingly from his pale erect flesh, to his equally hard but contrastingly dark cane.

“You won’t need the _wand.”_ She said, her eyes now drifting from the ebony and silver cane he still clasped, to his face.

He moved closer to the tub; Hermione struggled to keep her gaze above his waist.

“That depends.” He responded in the same husky but decidedly more menacing tone, his own eyes glinting with intent.

“On what?” She asked moving suggestively against the side of the wooden cask.

The Dark Wizard allowed his wand to fall to the ground, it clattered unceremoniously onto the bamboo matting which covered part of the floor, and he took another step forward, finally lowering himself into the heated bubbling water. His powerful and aroused body quickly coming behind her, flush against her back, he pressed her harder against the edge of the tub.

Hermione’s body moved of its own volition, instinctively pushing back into him, thrilling at the powerful erection which strained against her arse. His hands moved to her pert breasts; Hermione let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding as he squeezed them almost painfully. He pulled her backwards further and firmer into his embrace, and his mouth came to her ear, his sharp teeth grazing the soft lobe, his breath caressing her cheek as he spoke in that same husky menacing tone, it sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through Hermione.

“Your definition of safe sex.”

This time she couldn’t contain the small moan which dropped from her lips as her nipples skimmed the palms of his hands.

“I doubt there is anything safe about sex with you Mister Malfoy.” The words were out before she could stop them, but she didn’t care, instinctively knowing they wouldn’t stop him, she doubted anything would now, the small chuckle at her ear confirming her suspicions.

“Isn’t that the point my dear.”

Was it? That little voice asked in the back of her head; the sex and just about everything else in her relationship with Ronald Weasley had been very safe and Hermione had often found herself hankering after something a little more adventurous, risky even. Talk about going from one extreme to the other.

Lucius Malfoy’s surprisingly sensual mouth moved from her ear, tracing an erotic path down the side of her neck to the nape, his teeth all the while nipping and scraping as he worked his way between her shoulders. His body was still firmly pressed against hers, he seemed to be touching her everywhere, overwhelming both her body and her senses with his touch and it felt so bloody good, she wanted more.

Hermione twisted around in his arms, enjoying how his body rubbed against hers. The hands which had moments before tormented her aching nipples were now splayed across her nibbled shoulders. Her breasts brushed against the hard wall of his chest, the pebbled peaks now teasing him. The flat planes of two well-toned stomachs rested against each other, and below, his solid erect cock pressed against her feminine curls, burning heat pooled between Hermione’s legs.

One slim forefinger came to rest just below his Adam’s apple, it bobbed as he swallowed at her touch. One vivid Veela red nail glinted wickedly in the dusky light, the blood red stark against his pale skin. Hermione could hear the therawitch’s words from earlier as they reverberated around in her mind, she really should know better than to question or doubt any form of magic, or the power of any potion after all of these years, even if it did come in the harmless guise of nail polish. Moving back as far as the hard edge of the tub would allow, the tip of her finger travelled lower, over his pounding heart, following that fine feathering of dark blonde hair. Beneath the water she knew it had reached the point where it darkened still further and trailed into that tantalising vee, she also knew that there was no expensively tailored waistband between her and Lucius Malfoy’s incredibly aroused flesh. Her eyes were as bright and wickedly glinting as the varnish which tipped her nails and she saw his Adam’s apple bob again; much more pronounced this time as he swallowed much harder.

The bubbling water came to just below Lucius Malfoy’s shoulder blades, his long blonde hair rested and drifted on the surface, his piercing grey blue eyes locked with hers.

“Decidedly _male”._ She said holding his gaze as her finger followed a tormenting and erotic path to the very tip of his body.

The shudder and heavy breath exhaled by the Dark Wizard was as sexy as it was satisfying, her fingertip toying with the swollen head of his cock beneath the warm gently frothing water. Her hand coiled around the shaft and slid slowly down towards his body, enjoying the buoyant feel of his flesh, the heavy breath became a strangled hiss.

Up until now this had all been rather one sided, very much about Hermione Granger, and somewhat uncharacteristically Lucius Malfoy was cheerfully losing the discreet battle of words and understated movements he’d been having all night with his son’s former classmate. For him, until this point his actions and reactions had been very controlled and restrained; there was nothing remotely subtle about her movements now, and he desperately strove to hang on to that control and restraint, but his reactions were out of his hands and quite literally very much in hers. As for his actions…

From the moment he had seen her sitting somewhat surprisingly at his bar earlier that evening, he’d even more unexpectedly, had only one thing on his mind. His aching body had been ridiculously impatient, wanting to be where he was now, hours ago, but he could wait, well at least until after a leisurely dinner, some polite well placed conversation, and a little blatant flirtation, all accompanied by the best his wine cellar could offer. Over the years the former Death Eater had acquired a modicum of patience, and as an older and hopefully wiser man, he had also learnt not to rush things, especially not these kind of things and especially not with a witch like Hermione Granger. He had no doubt whatsoever that the woman, once referred to as the brightest witch of her age, could match him on every level, magical or otherwise. The fact that they had been verbally duelling all evening, physically _striking_ each other in the most artful of ways, but she had maintained the upper hand, was testament to that. He may well have been the one with the ulterior motive, but that she had all but incited the situation he now found himself in was also further proof if it were needed, she was not only a beautiful and unbelievably sexy woman, but she was also a very confident and extremely capable one. She might well have his hard cock in her hand, but the Dark Wizard was under no illusions, any false or unwelcome moves on his part and who knew what spell or hex would befall him. 

With the untimely arrival of the owl and the need to deal with some urgent business Lucius Malfoy had imagined his ulterior motive had been well and truly thwarted. The beautiful and sexy Miss Hermione Granger would hardly be expecting his return or waiting on it, she was here for the weekend; he was confident he had not missed his opportunity entirely. His body however had not been so easily placated or quickly cooled as his thoughts, strolling back into the gardens had of course not helped, simply reminding his still aching body of how his evening should have ended, and where he could be right now had it not been for the feathery interruption. A suitable charm would turn the water in one of the hot tubs into a cold tub, cooling his ardour, whilst the relaxing jets soothed his frustration. Finding the delectable Miss Granger, _unfortunately_ neck deep in the dark frothy water had been to say the least an unexpected bonus. This time there would be no interruptions and this time there would be far less subtly, he only had so much patience and his body would not be denied again. The mild war of words had reached a ceasefire, the gentle battle of movements, a laying down of arms. This was undoubtedly naked warfare; the ordnances had definitely changed, a lascivious smiled curled his lips, his own very powerful weapon very much enjoying being in someone else’s clearly quite capable hands.

Hermione Granger held his throbbing flesh in her hand, she had definitely upped not only the ante.


	8. Strong Sensations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always thank you for lovely comments and kudos, sorry I haven't had a chance to thank you personally as I usually like to do, have had one or two distractions and I thought it was better to get another chapter up...I hope you agree. So a collective hug and thanks for kind words etc xx I would also apologise for naughty cliff hanger last time around...I would but I am so not sorry, just mean. That said apologies for any errors etc and enjoy...

A tiny part of Hermione tried to separate the fact that it was Lucius Malfoy’s hard flesh that she had in her hand, that she caressed so shamelessly, but the fact that it was Lucius Malfoy’s body that felt so good in her hand made her feel all the more wanton.

They were both completely naked, they were both wandless; Hermione didn’t for a second underestimate what this man was capable of with or without his wand, but somehow at this moment she felt that she was far more powerful than the Dark Wizard, instinct also told her that he was quite happy for this to be the case, perhaps that again came back to the stiff veined flesh which throbbed to her touch. She tugged gently but firmly on his erection, a dark blonde brow rising as she pulled him closer. 

“I’m impressed, there’s a lot more to you than I expected Mister Malfoy.”

His brow twitched ever so slightly, but his other features remained fixed, his blue grey eyes boring into hers.

“I think Miss Granger under the circumstances you should call me Lucius.” His aristocratic voice was low and very sexy.

Whatever the situation, even during some of his cruellest, darkest moments in the past, Hermione had never known this man to be anything other than oh so ridiculously proper and unnervingly polite. Devilment got the better of her, and she slid her hand slowly back and forth beneath the dark bubbling water, savouring the scarcely suppressed moan which escaped his lips.

“Circumstances?” She repeated his word questioningly, as if she had no idea what he was referring to.

Even in the dim light she saw his pale eyes darken and narrow, he bent his blonde head, his wet hair falling forward to tickle her shoulder, his mouth was just centimetres from hers.

“We are both naked in a hot tub.” He stated obviously.

She felt his warm breath caress her face, the merest hint of cognac drifted to her nostrils, it excited her as much as his matter of fact, yet husky tone.

“You have my clearly very aroused cock in your hand, I think we could call that _circumstances_ , you _should_ call me Lucius.”

Still so polite but there was something deliciously improper about his words, increasing her excitement. Hermione’s hand continued to stroke him.

“Hmm so I do, Lucius.” A hint of feigned surprise laced her voice.

She ran her thumb over the swollen head, even in the water she could feel a dewy bead form at the tip, she moistened her lips as they parted in appreciation.

Lucius Malfoy all but growled, he might have learnt a certain amount of restraint, acquired a modicum of patience, but he was still a man and an incredibly aroused one at that.

His mouth came down hard on hers, there was neither patience nor restraint in it as his lips moved across hers and his tongue demanded entry, which was willingly given. The easy battle of words became a much more feisty duel of tongues, which snaked slowly and erotically against each other, exploring mouths and moving over sharp teeth, the level of intensity grew along with their passion. The kiss became deeper and rougher, their tongues rubbing against each other more frantically. He felt her hand tighten around him, his body instinctively thrusting forward as he fought for breath and control.

Despite the pressure of his mouth and the eagerness of his tongue, Hermione couldn’t help but notice how soft it felt, an almost tender coaxing which elicited the maximum response from her, driving her to demand more. The hands which had been splayed across her shoulders moved, drifting at a frustratingly languid pace, one across her ribs back to cup her breast, the other danced down her spine to the gentle swell of her arse, where it squeezed the soft rounded flesh. She moaned against his marauding mouth, releasing his cock, her arms wound themselves around his neck, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, she moved her hips rubbing her sex against his potent erection.

He growled against her mouth, before their lips finally parted and they stood in the water, facing each other both of their breathing laboured.

“I’m shocked Miss Granger, what a naughty witch you truly are.” His gasping tone was barely audible.

“I think Lucius, under the circumstances, you should call me Hermione.” 

Not for the first time this evening Hermione repeated the Dark Wizard verbatim, oddly delighted that she had shocked him and hoping to continue to do so, would he play the game also?

“Circumstances?”

Of course he would, she could see in his face, let alone feel in his body he was enjoying this particular _game_ as much as she was. Whilst still catching his breath, there was no mistaking the questioning tone in his voice, as if he too were curious as to what she referred to.

“We are both naked in a hot tub.”

She kept her face straight as she continued to use his words.

“You have your very aroused cock almost inside me, I think we could call that _circumstances_ , you _should_ call me Hermione.”

“Hmm, so I do _Hermione_.” He managed to inflict the same amount of feigned surprise in his tone as Hermione.

She saw those pale eyes of his narrow and darken even more, the pupils wide with desire.

“But”

A little frisson of apprehension ran down her spine, as his brows knitted together that infamously cruel look crossing his face. His mouth came menacingly to her ear, his lips grazing it as he spoke.

“We need to remove the almost from that sentence.”

His movement was swift, it caught Hermione totally unawares and sent water cascading all over the floor and bamboo matting.

They might have been in a tub of water, but the warm wetness that his eager cock slipped into was all Hermione, her arousal and her desire for him evident. He groaned in satisfaction at the tight, wetness that drew him into her willing body.

Hermione couldn’t withhold the small scream like sound which emanated from her, there certainly was a lot more to Lucius Malfoy than she had expected, it stretched and filled her like she had never been before, the action robbing her of breath and filling her with pleasure at the same time.

“Fuck!” He hissed at her ear.

Everything tightened around him all at once, her arms about his neck, pressing her pebbled nipples into his heaving chest, the fingers which had woven their way into his hair. Her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside and those silky wet walls which clenched his cock so tightly he thought he might just come there and then.

Had she not have all but screamed, Hermione was certain she too would have been responsible for the same unladylike expletive, from him it sounded uncharacteristic but so disgustingly sexy.

The dark water frothed and lapped gently against them, the sweet vibration heightening her already sensitised skin. His lips were still at her ear, caressing and nipping the soft lobe and licking the shell, the thought and the sound increasing her need for him. Hermione moved slowly, easing herself off of his rigid shaft, she heard his breathing increase and a small moan catch in his throat as she slid back down again. She repeated the action, ensuring that her breasts rubbed against his chest, sensation flooded her own body and her inner muscles clenched about him once more. His large hands gripped her upper arms, the strong fingers biting into her flesh, the pain mingled gloriously with the absolute pleasure she felt, and Hermione fought against his grasp, taking him with her, allowing him to assist with the movement. More water slopped over the edge of the oversized barrel leaving them just about waist deep. Letting his arms take the weight Hermione leaned backwards, her nipples puckering with the sudden cooling exposure.

They practically cried out invitingly to him and were simply too much to resist, the Dark Wizard dipped his blonde head, taking one of the rosy peaks in his mouth and sucking hard. Hermione groaned to his skilled erotic touch, pressing herself down harder on his sheathed length, burying him to the hilt in her hot centre. He groaned against the breast he suckled, the vibration tormenting Hermione even more than his devilish mouth and tongue.

“Mmm harder” She mumbled into the air, her head tumbling backwards.

The wicked mouth and tongue were joined by the teeth which had wreaked so much havoc on her earlobe, something unintelligible fell from her lips as he took the hard puckered peak between his teeth, biting perhaps a little harder than he should, but Hermione cried out again as pain once more morphed into incoherent pleasure. He moved his blonde head to the other one, his long wet hair now tickling her breast, it was a ridiculously sensual sensation, which sent Hermione’s hips thrusting forward, causing her inner walls to flutter teasingly around him. He groaned at the other breast, sucking and nipping still harder.

Lucius wanted to touch her, he wanted to slip his hand between them, slide his fingers into that thatch of feminine hair, reach for that sensitive bundle of nerves and make her cry out once more, this time for him as she came over his cock. The thought drove him harder into the wetness, the water which this time cascaded over the edge of the tub left the level to just below their bottoms, the only wetness which he now felt around his throbbing shaft was all her.

Her arms were still wrapped around his neck, one hand relinquished its hold on her, dipping between them, Hermione tugged on his hair, pulling his head up to face her. This time her lips covered his, her tongue tracing the seam before slipping provocatively into his mouth. Their eyes locked and he felt her smile. Her fingers curled around the hand which had dipped between her legs, she laced her own fingers with his and to his surprise removed his hand. With one hand still around his neck and the other clasped in his she lifted herself off his cock, almost allowing to slip from her body, but not quite, the water and her own juices had made it blissfully easy for her to slide up and down on him, using her arms and his hand for purchase. She did it again, and again and again, his eyes fluttered shut, savouring the blissful sensation.

His body was unyielding, Hermione could feel every part of it against her and inside her. She knew he’d been reaching for her clit, had wanted to make her come, she didn’t need his hand. She rubbed herself against his pubic bone, the angle she was at, the fact her was buried so deep and so hard inside her made it easy for her. Her warm sticky juices covered him, oozing between them and onto their bodies, the silky lubrication coating them both. Hermione’s breath began to shorten, the little ball of heat burning next to his throbbing shaft began to tingle, his chest juddered against her and deep inside her she could feel him pulsating against her walls. She pressed harder, wanting to take him with her but this was a man she hardly knew, was he was ready? She squeezed herself around him increasing the action. Hermione felt his fingers bite harder into her flesh, felt his hand gripping her own, his chest was rising and falling just as hers was. His eyes fluttered opened and locked once more, Hermione licked her lips. It crossed her mind, at some point she wanted to taste this man, but for now she wanted to make him come and come hard. Another wicked thought flashed across her mind, it manifested itself into four words, which she spoke against his mouth.

“Come with me Lucius.”

Her voice came out in a tone similar to the one she had heard him use several times during the course of the evening, not so much of a request, but a soft command.

Would he, was she chancing her arm just a little bit too much? His response came in the sound of a guttural groan, emanating from deep inside him, and his body thrusting harder into her. Hermione clung to him; all her limbs now wound around him like a vine, allowing him to move her however he wanted. The remaining water in the tub sloshed around their lower legs, her back hit the edge of the rounded barrel and he steadied himself. It drifted fleetingly across Hermione’s mind that she was surprised she hadn’t found herself apparated to somewhere more comfortable or _appropriate_ , mind you there was nothing stopping her either; nothing that was except the only movement she wanted right now, was the upward lunge of his hips pressing himself deeper and harder inside her. Her senses were lost to him, she moved with him and against him, he grunted softly with every thrust and the ball of heated pleasure in her lower belly built, spreading rapidly to every part of her aroused body, teetering on the point of eruption, until finally she could take no more and it exploded in and around her, taking him with her. His rhythm faltered, and his body became suddenly rigid. Through her own cloud of hazy white ecstasy, Hermione saw his head fall back, a vein on his neck pulsed and throbbed just as his cock pulsed and throbbed within her, she felt his powerful body spilling into her own, and another gush of her own pleasure rushed to meet it. His name tumbled from lips; her face buried against his neck in a silky curtain of wet blonde hair.

As their breathing began to slow and return to normal, her grip on him slackened, she felt his sated erection slipping from her body and the very familiar feel of apparition. 


	9. Wild Surmises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always for kind comments and kudos. I am delighted you are enjoying my overlap of my two favourite literary worlds....two worlds which are very much about to collide.
> 
> As always apologies for any errors grammatical or otherwise and as always ......enjoy.....

Apparation and some powerful magic found Hermione in the middle of a very large, very soft bed, cleansed and completely dry, well almost. She stretched against the luxurious cotton bedding beneath her naked skin, her body and her senses gradually recovering from the magical transportation. Despite having spent next to no time in her own room, she knew this wasn’t it, Hermione turned to face the man denting the soft bed linen on her left.

Lucius Malfoy was propped up on one elbow, a lazy smirk curving his mouth, his now dry blond hair falling in a familiar silky mass about his broad shoulders.

“I like to think I am a fit man for my age my dear, but I have to confess my knees would not have kept us upright for much longer. I hope you don’t mind?”

She turned to face him, the polished red tip of her finger once again twinkled at Hermione, glinting in the firelit room, the young witch could have sworn it all but winked at her as it wound a mellifluous strand of his blonde hair around it, a vixen like smile curving her own mouth.

“Oh I think you are a very fit man … for anyone’s age.”

She saw his mouth twitch at her remark before her eyes left his face briefly, flittering about the room, it was twice the size of hers.

“Your room.” It was a statement more than a question, her finger continuing to play with his hair.

“My personal suite.” He replied watching her every move, his body already beginning to stir in arousal at the sight of her naked on his bed.

“No I don’t mind at all.” Her smile increased

“In fact I am surprised we remained in the tub for as long as we did.”

This time Lucius chuckled; it was a low rumbling sound which she felt as well as heard.

His hand drifted to her hip, it moved softly and slowly down over her thigh to her knee, before wandering slowly back upwards.

“Oh I was enjoying myself far too much to even contemplate moving” He corrected himself smoothly.

“Changing locations.”

His words were as provocative as his low tenor, Hermione’s body reacting to them and his leisurely moving hand.

“I think I was quite possibly in my teens the last time I had a sexual encounter anywhere other than what one might deem conventional.”

Still so polite, thought Hermione as an image of a young Lucius Malfoy, fumbling in a dark space at Hogwarts with Narcissa or another young witch danced across her mind. The other young witch suddenly becoming her, a very different time, a very different place, the late Professor Snape’s potions store perhaps, the thought gathered momentum…

“That sharp little mind of yours is conjuring an image all of its own I think.”

He really could read her a little too well, she tugged on the silky hair, which was now tightly wrapped around her finger, pulling his face closer to hers.

“Hmm I was thinking about fucking the dark threatening School Governor in the Potions Master’s store cupboard.”

The image she presented coloured his brain in glorious detail, along with her course choice of words, it stirred his body further. At that time, his pureblood ways of thinking would have been horrified and disgusted at the notion of such an encounter with a Mudblood. As a father he should have been too, she was after all young enough to be his daughter, she still was of course. But as a man, the scenario she described made his cock twitch and throb. He raised a curious brow.

“Thinking that now.” He observed, his wandering hand reaching her breast. “But surely not back then.”

Hermione’s brown eyes twinkled and narrowed, pulling on the strand of hair, until his lips almost touched hers. His hand stilled against her breast, but his thumb continued to toy with the taut rosy peak.

“Back then Lucius.” She said, her voice quiet and sultry.

“I would have used every potion in the store, locked you in and thrown away the key.”

She leant forward and ran her tongue over his lips, her teeth nipping gently at the lower one. She spoke against the hint of a smile which tugged at his sensual mouth.

“However, knowing what I know now, that might have been a somewhat rash choice.”

His hand began its roaming once more, this time it was a long artistic forefinger which took the lead, tracing the valley between her breasts and across her stomach until it reached the soft hair between her thighs. This time Hermione didn’t remove his hand.

“Back then Hermione.”

His voice was just as quiet, the tone so sultry she almost felt her toes curl. As was becoming a pattern he mimicked her words, and this time her actions too, running his tongue over her lips, his seemingly much sharper teeth not so gently nipping the lower one, she gasped in surprise and his tongue dipped into her mouth, now tracing the soft inner palate.

“Your actions would have been justified.” He too spoke against her mouth.

His hand dipped between her legs; caressing the spot he’d been seeking before. Of course he was right, but this wasn’t the way substantiate his point.

“However, I do find your _however_ arousing more than just my imagination.”

He slipped a finger between the soft feminine curls and into her already wet centre.

“It would appear I am not the only one.”

His finger moved with dextrous precision, eliciting a soft mewl from Hermione.

“And what are you thinking about now?”

The vixen like smile returned to her lips, most of her thoughts were centred around his skilfully moving fingers, but she could read him with similar ease, knowing exactly the response he was looking for, in more ways than one.

“Hmm I was thinking about fucking the dark threatening _former_ School Governor in a far more comfortable place.”

It was a long time since Hermione had been the Miss Goody Two Shoes she had been at school, she was after all an adult now, a grown woman. But her actions, not to mention her reactions when it came to this man of all people, were something which surprised even Hermione herself.

If the bright red nail polish, which glinted against his pale skin was in some way responsible for those actions and indeed reactions, then the therawitch had definitely undersold its properties and its capabilities. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she felt so feminine or so incredibly sexy. She didn’t want to demean the glistening red varnish in any way, doubt its powers or the therawitch’s word, but she was well aware that those same actions and reactions were very much down to a very blonde, very Dark Wizard. Actual magic had nothing to do with it, he just pushed the right buttons, touched those feminine places and stirred the sexy side of her. His long capable fingers were definitely pushing those buttons, their slow deliberate movements stirring that side of her.

Those penetrating blue grey eyes twinkled with even more intensity at her words, this time there was no surprise in their depths, feigned or otherwise, just a wicked knowing.

Hermione contemplated pushing him and that handsome smug face, back into the sumptuous bedding and straddling him. The idea of having that sexual power over the dark wizard once again racing across her mind. In that tiny moment of contemplation, she found the soft luxurious bedding beneath her own back, his weight pressing her into the expensive linen. His knee nudged her long legs further apart, as her arms were gently but firmly pinned above her head into the square down pillows, that handsome smug face looming over her, his silky blonde hair falling about her own face. Despite their dip in the hot tub, his body and his hair still smelt of that intoxicating cologne, its spicy scent tickling her senses. 

Hermione shifted beneath him to accommodate his weight, feeling his once again incredibly aroused body hard against her own. That he was undeniably in control shifted the dynamic completely, his features seemed to adopt that dark threatening look she had alluded to and a little frisson of fear melded with the excitement that coursed through her veins. His hips moved against hers, his cock nestling at the damp juncture of her thighs.

“Anything to oblige, my dear. Is this what you had in mind?”

Through an already blurring haze of arousal, something in his disgustingly sexy tone told Hermione, that he knew very well that this wasn’t what she’d had in mind at all, but it would _do for now_. Something also told her that there would be another time to do what she’d had in mind, she added it to her mental list..

She opted for a nonverbal response to his question, her feet slinking up over his calves, the action opening her up to him, and allowing the head of his cock to slip between her wet folds. They wandered further up his limbs, her hips gently thrusting to meet and encourage him. In the watery tub, his entry had been swift, catching her unawares and leaving her robbed of breath, in the luxurious comfort and softness of his bed, his measured thrust into her more than ready body, was supremely unhurried. Although she wasn’t caught off guard, Hermione was still left breathless; lying down, his more than ample body stretched and filled her so differently to the way it had done in the hot tub. His weight on top of her asserting that commanding power of his and sending a very different rush through her body, a body which willingly rose to meet him, a body which wanted to feel him as deeply as was humanly possible.

Lucius groaned at the soft sweet wetness that drew him further into her, caressing his cock like a warm silken glove. Basking in the bliss of her body, his brain cunningly wondered if he could keep her in his bed for the duration of her stay, his cock pulsed at the notion, and that soft wetness tightened in response, he groaned again, louder this time.

Hermione suddenly realised he had released her arms, they drifted to the broad expanse of his back, just as her feet had done over his lower limbs they slinked over his warm skin, enjoying the taught flickering muscles in his arse as he continued to thrust gently in and out of her. His mouth had found hers by way of her throat, the tongue had licked erotically at her neck now tangled with her own, in an unpredictable mix of rough and demanding, sweet and coaxing Hermione found herself more turned on that she could ever remember being. Who would have ever imagined Lucius Malfoy to be such a skilled lover? Lucius Malfoy lover, another three words she’d never imagined hearing or using in the same sentence. Hermione shivered involuntarily at the thought, such a naughty thought, such a wicked man, but her sinful body wound itself tighter around him, drew him further in to touch all those hidden places that filled her with ecstasy. 

“Mmm, that’s sooooo good.” She said, as her mouth left his and her head fell back into the downy bedding.

Lucius propped himself up looking at her flushed face, enjoying her vocalisation, her eyes sparkled back at him. He slowly withdrew from her silky depths, before plunging with equal slowness back into her, deep into her, his eyes fixed on that pretty face, watching it flush even more and those brown eyes sparkle like stars in the night.

“Sooooo good.” She mouthed silently at him, her soft hands gently stroking his rippling arse.

He repeated the action, slow, hard and deep. Never taking his eyes off of her face, he felt her body arch up into him, burying him deeper than he thought possible, this time he all but growled low in his throat, an animalistic sound which echoed his body’s feeling.

His movements increased, slow became a little faster, again Hermione’s body arced up into his, she began to meet his hastening pace, meeting him thrust for thrust. The soft hands which had caressed his arse, bared their claws and her newly manicured nails, scraped the length of his back. He cried out, unable to withhold the pain which mingled with the unrivalled pleasure pulsing through his body.

Hermione was once again engulfed in the delicious sensation that he was touching and stroking her everywhere, inside and out, his body was totally filling and fulfilling her, but she wanted more, and he gave it. Each time he pressed hard into her slick walls, she clenched about him, holding him tighter and tighter, making his withdrawal and re-entry harder and more potent. She heard him suck in, in sharp rapture, her own breathing quickening as pleasure galloped through her.

Their eyes remained locked neither wanting to look away, their expressions and cries fuelling the others enjoyment. His eyes were a fierce stormy grey, darkened in passion, hers twinkled brighter than ever. She could feel his skin beneath her fingers, perhaps more than she should have as her nails racked his back once more, drawing his weight back against her body, feeling every part of him on or in her. Still she threshed up against him, his cock working deep inside her with perfect exquisite precision. She clasped still tighter about him, feeling every inch of his veined shaft pulse, surging inside her.

Hermione all but screamed his name as her orgasm ripped through her, almost unable to breath with the shattering force of the pleasure which tore at every part of her, through it she felt his body stiffen. Heavy on her sensitised breasts she could feel his chest, his laboured breathing, his hips suddenly stilling against hers, his body shuddering against hers.

Lucius felt his seed shoot hard and fast from his throbbing cock, her body milking him of everything he had, shaking around his shaft in her own climax and taking him with her again…

Hermione woke to the sound of Lucius Malfoy’s voice, it was distant and muffled, and for a moment, disorientated, she thought she was still half asleep. She stretched languorously, her body aching, but deliciously so from the previous night’s exertions, actually she was fully awake, but very much alone. His voice drifting to her ears from outside, through a partially open window. Hermione was loath to leave the soft, warm comfort of his enormous bed, but curiosity got the better of her, wondering who on earth he was talking to at such an early hour. There was a dark robe slung over a chair next to the bed, she grabbed it, slipping her arms into the dark towelling, Hermione was immediately engulfed in the exotic, heady scent of Lucius Malfoy. Her senses reeled and for a moment she was thrown back into his arms, her body tingling everywhere at the recollections, wishing he was still this side of the glass.

An antique clock on the mantle over the fireplace, told her it wasn’t such an early hour at all, it was in fact a little after 7.30am, Lucius had asked her to meet him at 8am for a shoot, and it sounded as if he was already outside, possibly organising things, waiting for her. 

A cool gentle breeze greeted her through the slightly open window, it shifted a long drape at the side and carried Lucius’ voice on it. Hermione cautiously peered around the heavy velvet curtain, not wishing to alert anyone else to her presence in his room, looking down onto the gravelled drive below. Her companion from the previous evening was talking to two men, one whom she could see clearly the other had his back to her and was partially obscured by a large potted palm of some sort. The man who was partly hidden and to whom Lucius appeared to be directing his conversation towards, was the same height as the blonde wizard, but much broader in stature. From what she could see, Hermione noticed he was wearing a dark Muggle type business suit and some rather heavy footwear, boots with a thick rubber sole, a bit too clunky for the suit, she mused to herself. Most of his head was hidden behind the green fronds of the plant, but she could see his hair, it was very short, almost spikey on top and a steely grey colour, no matter which way she leaned she couldn’t make out his face. The third man, who was standing slightly back from the other two, appeared to be listening intently, hanging on their every word, and even from her vantage point, Hermione could see that his eyes were darting about all over the place as if he was keeping watch. He too was quite tall, pigeon chested and much fatter than the other two, the buttons on his also dark suit pulling around his substantial midriff. His grey shirt was fastened to the neck, where an equally drab tie was secured under his seemingly numerous chins. The weak early morning sunshine gleamed on his almost bald head, and his arrogant upright stance put Hermione in mind of a bodyguard, someone full of his own self-importance.

“A puffed up little cornflake.” Hermione muttered one of her mother’s favourite expressions out loud as she tried again, in vein to get a better look at the other man.

Lucius was nodding seriously at the grey haired man and pointing the puffed up cornflake in the direction of the entrance to the Club, he picked up a small suitcase at his feet and did as he was instructed. Lucius took a step back and gestured for the man to whom he’d been speaking to go inside. At this point the suited, grey haired man stepped out from the concealing leaves of the palm and Hermione could clearly see the face of Julius Nihil.

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her brain going from first to fifth gear in split second. She took a quick step back from the window, imaging her gasp loud enough to be heard on the ground below, but Lucius Malfoy and Julius Nihil remained engaged in conversation, concentrating only on each other, as she surreptitiously watched them head towards the entrance, completely out of her view.

Merlin’s teeth what had she done? Sleeping with a _former_ Death Eater was bad enough, but a man who was obviously part of Julius Nihil’s plan, who clearly still practised very dark magic and whom the other practitioner had reached out to. Her surmises went from bad to worse, Hermione’s brain was in overdrive, one wild thought after another falling into her head. This was why she never mixed business with pleasure, this was definitely a conflict of interest, she’d seen a very different side to Lucius Malfoy yesterday evening, last night, but ..

“Sod him and his bloody clichés.” She muttered angrily to herself; this leopard had clearly not changed his spots at all, and she fallen for his line. 

Hermione tugged the belt on the dark towelling robe about herself, another waft of Lucius Malfoy’s spicy cologne invaded her nostrils, reminding her as if she needed reminding, of what she’d done. Her body needed no reminding tingling appreciatively, it was not apt to be as angry as her mind. She stomped across the room to the door, her hands buried deep in the pockets, stopping abruptly she returned to the window glancing out once more. The puffed up little cornflake had returned to the vintage black and yellow Rolls Royce car which had been parked on the drive, he removed another small case from its boot, before he sent the car down the driveway to the garage, its slim tyres crunching on the gravel. He glanced around once more, his piggy eyes drifting towards Hermione and the open window, she took a swift step backwards hiding amongst the folds of the heavy drapes.

So this is what Lucius Malfoy had meant about wining and dining his business associates, keeping the wheels oiled. She’d pondered his guest list at the time, but for some strange reason she’d never imagined that Julius Nihil would have been on it, perhaps she hadn’t wanted him to be. Instead of him needing their capital, influence and connections, Hermione felt it was definitely the other way around, when it came to Dark Wizarding in England, the man with whom she had so easily spent the night was the one to be keeping sweet and who would without a shadow of a doubt be a key player in Julius Nihil’s nefarious plan.

“Hmm, keeping him sweet.” Hermione’s speeding brain slid back to cruise in third gear, the cogs slowly ticking over, a plan of her own formulating.

Had she not been an Unspeakable and involved in Goldeneye, Hermione would not have known who Julius Nihil was, let alone anything about his plan, so for all intense and purposes now, she still had no clue who Lucius Malfoy’s friend was, and she could remain just as oblivious should their paths cross. There certainly was a lot more to be gained by keeping Lucius Malfoy sweet, and despite what she now knew or at least believed, keeping his _wheels oiled_ wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.

Her brain might be full of wild surmises but, officially Hermione Granger was off the Ministry’s clock, she had been ordered to take the weekend off. She knew nothing for certain about Julius Nihil’s visit, or about the former Death Eater’s involvement with him, although instinct not to mention past crimes told her it was nothing good, but neither instinct nor the past were proof enough of anything, to involve RM. That said she really should let him know that he was here, but then she was here, RM would just send an operative to observe the situation, and she was an operative, one well placed to observe anything.

Those thoughts she’d had about bringing Lucius Malfoy to his knees, well maybe she still could, in both senses.


	10. Itching Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So pleased you are enjoying this story, thank you for all of your lovely comments and kudos. My thanks to those of your playing along with Bond spotting and for your comments about this. So without further delay and with the usual apologies for any errors etc...enjoy...

Hermione hadn't planned on partaking in any outdoor pursuits or sports during her purportedly relaxing weekend, save perhaps a stroll in the gardens, which hardly come under either heading. Thus even the extension charm she had added to her small case did not include any suitable footwear for shooting, but then Hermione Granger hadn't graduated top of Minerva McGonagall's transfiguration class for nothing. A brief incantation and wave of her wand, and her smart rather expensive black suede boots became an equally smart pair of knee high country boots, teamed with jodhpur style leggings, which were always a staple in her luggage, and a black cashmere jumper. The outfit was completed with a red gilet, something she had brought along especially for the weekend and that stroll in the gardens, the tailored garment, clung stylishly to her feminine curves.

"Hmm, that'll do nicely." She said aloud, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail.

Glancing at her reflection in the long mirror in her own room, Hermione couldn't help but feel she resembled the somewhat stereotypical appearance she had envisaged her host adopting for such a pursuit, but she certainly looked the part and that was the main thing. Sport did not normally call for makeup and a squirt of perfume…but this was a very different kind of sport.

She found Lucius Malfoy alone in the lobby, presumably waiting for her. As always he cut a very striking figure, leaning on his serpent headed cane, and for once he was not clad from head to toe in black. He didn't exactly fit that hackneyed image that had flitted across her mind the day before, but it wasn't too far removed. A dark green moleskin shooting waistcoat with grey suede shoulder patches replacing the Barbour that she had pictured. How very Slytherin she thought absently, if nothing else, he certainly looked every inch the country squire come Lord of the Manor; all he was missing was a faithful gundog at his elegantly booted heels.

His lean figure crossed the lobby in a few long strides, meeting her descent from the central staircase, with an almost courtly bow. Hermione noticed that since she'd observed him from her window earlier, his signature mane of blonde hair had been caught in a strand of black ribbon at the nape of his neck, unlike her high ponytail, it hung sleekly down his back. He took her hand in his and with equal chivalry brushed the back to his lips.

Hermione felt that familiar tingle of excitement race through her body. Her eyes might have seen Lucius Malfoy with Julius Nihil, her brain might have registered the implications of the two men being together, but her body didn't seem to care in the slightest, it was still solely focussed on the pleasure he had inflicted on her.

"Good morning my dear, you look…perfect." He said, his warm breath caressing her hand.

"I trust you slept well." His grey eyes twinkled knowingly as they came to meet hers.

"I apologise for not being there when you woke up." The regret which clouded his eyes and laced his tone was sincere.

"But I had a rather important guest arriving whom I had to greet personally."

Well at least he hadn't lied about his whereabouts, Hermione mused silently, smiling sweetly at him.

"I did thank you, or perhaps I should say thanks to you."

Her eyes twinkled with the same knowing, her smile taking on a seductive air as she affected disinterest in his _important guest_.

"And please don't give it a second thought." She moved her hand dismissively, her voice echoing the seductiveness of her smile.

It appeared Hermione's body was in full charge, every inch of it fully aware of this man, in every way possible, and still enjoying flirting so outrageously with him.

"I am sure you will make it up to me." She heard herself saying, that mental list she'd made springing into her mind, and hoping for another addition.

He took her hand, slipping it into the crook of his arm as he escorted her outside.

"Consider me completely in your debt".

Lucius took his cue from tenor, happy to pick up where they had left off; leaving her in his bed this morning had been torturous, his body had been far from happy and truthfully neither had he. Her perfume wafted to his nostrils and went straight to his cock, he just about withheld the wolflike growl which burbled in his throat, but his smile was just as lascivious.

Hermione squeezed his arm, brushing her body against him as she stretched to his ear.

"Oh trust me Lucius" She whispered against the shell.

"I am going to make you pay... dearly."

Her body and her brain were still very much at odds over the settlement, but there was no reason why they both couldn't get what they wanted.

"I don't remember seeing that in the brochure." She said suddenly, noticing a white domed structure over his shoulder and unable to contain her natural curiosity.

Lucius didn't turn his head, his glinting eyes remained fixed on her, he was far more interested in the debt he was in and how she was going to make him pay and so _dearly_ , than what he knew was behind him.

"That's because it isn't in the brochure, it's temporary, just for the party tonight."

"Oh." She said as nonchalantly as she could, desperately trying to contain her insatiable curiosity.

They continued to walk, Lucius steering her towards the clay pigeon shooting area, Hermione's hand was nestled in the crook of his arm, as she matched his long purposeful strides.

"I find parties can be so tedious, especially those which involve business." He explained, boredom edging his voice.

"So I decided to make it a little more interesting, it's an ice palace." His tone remained flat, as if it really was nothing special.

He noticed Hermione's step falter, and then stop, her wide eyes darting in the direction of the structure behind him, an astonished gasp parting those delicious, highly kissable, very red, irresistible lips of hers, they simply were impossible to resist. He yanked her into his arms, his mouth quickly covering hers, if only he hadn't had to leave her in his bed. Finally he took a step back, savouring the look of flushed surprise on her face.

"Would you like to come." He asked, knowing full well the connotations his words held, and despite the potentially inherent dangers, Lucius Malfoy was supremely confident he could handle the two things.

Putting the ultimate, more serious goal aside, baiting Lucius Malfoy was always going to be fun, but she hadn't realised quite how much, until now. Although not technically on a case, Hermione seldom got to enjoy herself this much, or in such a way when she was working, perhaps there was something to be said for mixing business and pleasure after all.

"Come with you?" She repeated, licking her slightly swollen lips.

He inclined his head, raising a brow.

"As opposed to you coming with me." She gave him that coy, very naughty look.

"Oh to your party." Her coquettish expression changed to one of concern.

"I'd love to Lucius, but are you sure your business associates wouldn't object to my presence?"

Her demeanour might have been playful enough, but Hermione studied his reaction intently. Yesterday she had suspected the Dark Wizard knew more about what she actually did at The Ministry than he should, if that was the case, he would hardly invite her to a party where the guests included the man currently at the top of their most wanted list, would he? His face gave nothing away, save the fact he was clearly rather amused by her question, he also seemed genuinely perplexed by it.

"Why would anyone object to a beautiful woman at a party, I certainly wouldn't."

Hermione found herself somewhat taken aback, but nonetheless flattered by his words, but she didn't allow herself to be distracted by them, labouring her point too hard could easily arouse his suspicions. She took a step closer into him, her fingers smoothing the soft material of his waistcoat.

"Well, I think you may still have an ulterior motive and are just a tad biased, your guests might not be quite so receptive to me."

Even if she did just supposedly deal with imports and exports at the Ministry of Magic, she was still Hermione Granger, and some people did not warm to that fact, some never had.

"I am not trying to get out of coming with you but… you did say was a private party, my presence might be more feather ruffling than wheel oiling."

Whilst her words were sincere, they were more out of concern for herself than him, ruffling feathers meant she wasn't going to find out anything interesting at all.

"Well as I said my dear, business parties can be very dull and boring, if having you as my guest is going to ruffle a few stuffy feathers and stir things up a bit, then so be it. I think I deserve a little fun of my own."

His words did not sound like those of someone up to no good, but then Lucius Malfoy had made an art form out of deceit and was used to hiding behind a well-crafted façade, his years as a Death Eater having honed that particular _skill_ to a tee.

His long fingers moved to a loose strand of her hair, dislodged by the gentle breeze, he tucked it proficiently behind her ear, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"And as you pointed out it's my party. On my galleon, as our American friends say, so I'm entitled to bring anyone I like."

Both the Unspeakable and Hermione Granger inwardly squealed with delight at the prospect. One reminding the other silently as to why they were going. Her pleasure for both reasons, reflected in the smile she flashed at him.

"Indeed you are Lucius. In which case I would be even more delighted to come with you."

Hermione emphasised his double entendre, her hand still absently stroking his waistcoat. Yesterday just the thought of having dinner with the Dark Wizard had filled Hermione Granger with dread, whilst the Unspeakable had rejoiced, today both were equally thrilled to be invited to his party, but for very different reasons. However the Unspeakable felt that Hermione Granger should be a little less excited at the prospect, neither of them knew what this man was really up to.

"You do realise that this means you are going to be stuck with me for a good part of the day don't you?" She observed, a red tipped finger now glinting in the watery sunshine, against the dark green.

Lucius stepped back from her a second time, his usually well-disciplined body had still not forgiven him for leaving her in his bed, given not even a half a chance, it would have her back there in an instant. With an elegant sweep of his hand, he gestured for her to precede him, continuing their walk to the shooting ground.

"I fear it is you who are stuck with me; however you should consider yourself very lucky." His aristocratic tone had taken on that low sexy quality.

Stopping in her tracks once more, Hermione turned to face him. It appeared she was not the only one who had come top of the class in transfiguration, they had obviously reached their desired location as he was now holding a cocked shot gun, his every present cane, now conspicuous by its absence. Her gaze flittered from the glinting silver metal to his silvery blue eyes which glinted with equal menace.

"I should?" She asked, raising her hands in surrender as he snapped the barrel shut.

"Pull." He abstractedly called to a magical machine which hurled the clay discs into the air.

Without missing a beat he quickly and skilfully raised the black and silver gun into the air, firing at the moving projectile, catching it dead centre, so it shattered it into hundreds of pieces. Calling again and repeating the action and the direct hit once more. He smiled smugly at Hermione, obviously in no hurry whatsoever to respond to her question, he slowly withdrew two fresh cartridges from one of the many pockets in his waistcoat and reloaded the rifle. With the gun pointing safely downwards and away from them, Lucius moved behind her.

"Had I not had to play the attentive host this morning, I can assure you Hermione, the only outdoors you would have seen today, would have been from my bedroom window."

Hermione's heart beat franticly in her chest at his words; had he spotted her at that very window earlier and was testing her, what had she seen, what had she heard? At their implications, that he had wanted to spend the day in bed together, and as always, at his overwhelming proximity. As his strong arms encircled her, it felt as if it was going to burst from her chest, excitement and fear rushing through her veins as he placed the transfigured weapon in her hands. Her body also assured her, had she not been holding that rifle, they would have apparated right back to his bed. A loaded gun going off during apparation! It made the thought of splinching positively appealing. It didn't however stop her from taking a step back into him, feeling his body contour perfectly to hers, frighteningly so, just as it had done the previous evening in the hot tub. Even the clothing they both now wore did little to conceal his immediate reaction to her.

This time Lucius could not contain the heavy breath which escaped his lips.

"You need to show me how to hold it." She all but purred at him.

He knew she was of course referring to the rifle, however the analogy of his _weapon_ in her hands had previously crossed his mind, her tone and phraseology along with her soft, perfectly rounded arse against his groin sent his mind directly into the gutter.

"You seemed to be managing perfectly well last evening...oh you mean the gun."

It appeared they were once again back on the parodying train and despite now being wholly distracted by just about everything, Hermione was as sharp as ever and quick to respond to his innuendo. Enjoying both his word play and his reaction, she shifted purposefully against him.

Altering her stance as she lifted the gun slightly, he felt her shoulders straighten against him and her arse abrade against the constricting material of his trousers.

"I wouldn't want to mishandle it Lucius, it might go off too quickly in my hand."

Now there was a thought, one which played in his mind in such graphic detail, he could almost feel her warm hand wrapped around him. Merlin's teeth what this woman did to him! Struggling to maintain both his composure and his control, he spoke through almost clenched teeth.

"You just have to be careful with the trigger my dear, no itching fingers, you must squeeze rather than pull."

"I think I can manage that, squeeze not pull." She repeated slowly and suggestively after him.

Lucius could feel, rather than see her position and adjusted her arm slightly.

"Ready."

She said, making the one word statement sound more like a question, she could feel Lucius Malfoy was very ready, but for a very different kind of shooting, Hermione tried to maintain her concentration. Even in a _war_ of smutty double entendres, the perfectionist in Hermione did not want to miss her first clay pigeon.

"Comfortable?" He asked, on the pretext that he was in anyway remotely interested in the shooting.

She wriggled making sure that everything felt okay, but knowing full well, her movements were making the Dark Wizard far from _comfortable_.

"Yes." She affirmed.

He took a reluctant but necessary step backwards.

"Pull." This time the single word was a rasping hiss, as he called once again to the magical machine which hurled the clay discs into the air.

Hermione aimed the rifle and fired, narrowly missing the small brown disc. The recoil on the gun sent her hurtling backwards like she'd been hit with an expelliarmus spell, straight against the tall blonde.

"You missed, Miss Granger." He said rather obviously, an amused tone to his voice as he slipped back to a more formal address.

She still held the rifle containing the remaining shell in one hand, thankfully it was safely pointing towards the ground. Her free hand had however managed to somehow become caught between then.

"Did I?"

She lifted her wickedly twinkling eyes towards him, as she flexed the fingers which were splayed across the front of his pants.

"Itching fingers Lucius? What did you say, squeeeeze, don't pull?" She did precisely that, squeezing gently.

He muttered or rather hissed something on a groaned breath.

Hermione felt her so called itching fingers tingle and itch for real, the cool metal of the rifle she had been holding, transfiguring back into the equally cold metal of the serpent head of Lucius Malfoy's cane. Her smile was more devilish than the twinkle in her eyes, as without losing contact, she turned to face him completely.

"It appears I have a _wand_ in each hand Mister Malfoy." She too reverted back to formality, her brows lifting with her words.

"One only fractionally harder than the other too." A teasing smile curving her lips.

She thought she heard him say something under his breath, although she couldn't be sure if it wasn't simply another groan. Holding on tightly to both _wands_ , as for the second time in less than twenty four hours Hermione felt the very familiar tug of apparation, this was a pull she was certainly able to handle and one he was only marginally ahead of her in instigating. There was no question as to where she going to find herself, Lucius Malfoy having made himself quite clear on that front. Hermione recalled her mental list…


	11. Fire and Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for your lovely comments and kudos. I am so pleased you aren't minding the slower than usual updates, you know they will come.
> 
> So without further ado, and with apologies for any errors etc a slightly longer chapter to take you over the festive season.....and I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Very Happy New Year ....

His previous apparation had left her back against the sumptuous softness of his bed, whilst Hermione of course, still found herself in Lucius Malfoy’s bed, this time her front was firmly pressed against the aroused rigidity of his body. It wasn’t possible for one person to influence another when apparating, so sitting erotically astride the Dark Wizard must have been something that he too had visualised. Hermione smiled, no contemplation required, brief or otherwise, she refiled her mental list.

Yesterday they had both been naked from the hot tub, this time, direct from their very short-lived time on the shooting ground, they were both fully clothed, but there was something incredibly sensual, not to mention very naughty about it, as was the fact that she still had a _wand_ in either hand. One resting against the rather obvious bulge beneath the dark material of his trousers, the other, somewhat remarkably still clasped around his cane. She wasn’t sure which felt the more empowering.

Hermione allowed the shiny black lacquer to move through her fingers, the green crystal green eyes shimmering at their master as the silver serpent head grazed his chin. Her other hand moved in unison, moving lightly over his hard concealed flesh, its master’s blue grey eyes shimmering like ice in the sunshine, with a very different intent as her fingers grazed his constricted erection.

Lucius lifted his hips, arching into her touch, even in the hands of Hermione Granger, he feared nothing from his own wand, but his own body, well that was another story entirely. Knowing the mind blowing pleasure she could inflict on him and fearing how easily he could become addicted to that pleasure, and much more frighteningly … to her.

The sparkling silver was cool against his jaw, her tormenting fingers, even through the wool of his trousers were warm against his cock. An evanesco hovered on his lips, his clothing an annoying and restrictive barrier between them, but Hermione Granger was the one in control, any spells would be by her hand alone, a hand that was providing enough magic of its own without an actual spell.

Four eyes glinted back at her, two, a static bright green, and two a daring blue grey. Her own honey brown ones all but defied the vicious looking serpent, allowing the hard black wood of his cane to once again slip through her fingers, casting it to the floor, it landed on a thick rug by the bed with a dull angry thud.

Her free hand moved to the wooden buttons on the redundant shooting waistcoat, it was quickly joined by the other one. Lucius groaned softly as she shifted up his body, her inner thighs replacing her missing hand. The heat was even more intense, the implications and subtle movements setting his lower body on fire. As she undid first the three large buttons on the waistcoat and then the much smaller ones on the shirt, he thrust gently against her, savouring the rough feel of the wool against his swollen flesh and the feminine heat, just beyond his reach.

“Tell me Lucius, this _very important_ guest you had to welcome personally this morning, will he be at the party?”

Her hips and hands, continued to work their very own magic on the Dark Wizard, the _two_ Hermione Granger’s working together, both for their own very different ends, both noticing a tiny flicker of curiosity seep through the ecstasy etched on his slightly flushed face.

“He will.” Lucius responded; his voice steeped in the same ecstasy which stung his cheeks, but curious, nonetheless.

“You will have to be sure to introduce us. Evanesco…” The loosened clothing on his upper body finally vanished.

Hermione’s hand drifted sensually over his chest, feeling no tension enter his body at her somewhat oddly timed and impromptu request. She dipped her head to his male nipples, taking a slow turn at each one, nipping at the hardened flesh, wetting it with her tongue, before blowing on it and making the flesh pucker.

“Of course” He muttered huskily as she shuffled back slightly.

“May I ask why.” The air of curiosity lingered in his tone, but Lucius wasn’t altogether sure he really cared why, as her deft fingers moved to the fastening on his trousers.

Hermione wriggled back a little further grasping the waistband and tugging his trousers downwards, his arse lifted from the bed, eagerly facilitating her task without a thought, his achingly hard body readily springing free from the constricting material. 

“Just curious to meet the man you so easily _abandoned_ me for…” She said lightly, wanting him to think this was only about the sex, her fingers curling around his silky erect flesh, ensuring he remained completely distracted.

“Evanesco.” The second uttering of the spell saw the remainder of both of their clothing vanish.

Lucius moaned appreciatively, a small smile curving his lips at her unknowingly oversimplified observation. Part of his brain absently wondered why in Merlin’s name he had ever left his bed this morning, the other part thinking he could still possibly be asleep and enjoying the most vividly erotic dream.

Her wet body slid easily over his, his cock pressing between her damp curls, she teased him mercilessly not allowing him the entry she could feel he so desperately craved. Her narrowed eyes met his lustful impatient gaze, her fingers working skilfully in union with her lower body which straddled him.

“I promise not to tell him _why_ he isn’t my favourite guest at the party.” She said pressing hard against him.

She noticed the small smile which had curved his sensual mouth drift into an outright smirk, his hard body thrust gently back at her. His tone was as amused as his mouth, and as lustful as his eyes.

“Oh I don’t know; it might make for an interesting party conversation.”

A sly smirk of its own lifted Hermione’s lips, her thighs squeezing his.

“Hmm, excuse me Mister..” She pondered the name she knew all too well.

“Very Important Guest…but you do realise your arrival this morning deprived me of …”

She moved with exquisite slowness, punctuating her words with erotic movements.

“The pleasure of our host.” Hermione said, lifting herself up and positioning herself over his cock, allowing him to feel her damp heat against the swollen tip before sinking slowly onto him.

Their soft moans of combined pleasure drifted into the air.

Merlin he felt so good. Patience, and taking her time, had been skills Hermione had acquired and perfected with her job, Lucius Malfoy stretched them and her to the very limits. She squeezed her walls around him, enjoying the feel of him once more, and loving the pleasured sounds he made. The little smirk lingered on his lips.

“Very true my dear but being so deep...” He thrust up into her, watching her pert breasts bounce.

“…In your debt, has its advantages.”

“Mmm.” Hermione savoured the silky feel of his ample body within her.

“And this Lucius…” She squeezed tighter around his sheathed cock.

“Is just a _small_ deposit”

She wasn’t entirely sure how she deigned to use the word small, but the raised eyebrow and hard upward thrust made her choice of words worth it. Hermione planted her palms behind her, fully impaling herself on him so her damp curls melded with his own covering of dark blonde pubic hair. Arching her back she began to slowly ride him. She loved the way he felt deep within her so different from their reversed positions the previous evening. His cock so hard, stroked her in the right inner places, eliciting frissons of pleasure coursing through her blood. He was simply too much pleasure, she just couldn't take slow anymore, bending forward and hovering over him, Hermione began to ride him hard.

His sparkling eyes now blazed with fiery undiluted lust and he bucked up hard into her, his powerful hands moved to her hips, she felt his fingers biting into her soft flesh, blissfully bruising it with the strength of his grip as he slammed into her with each forceful upward thrust.

Their moans of mutual enjoyment reverberated around the room as she gyrated her hips, grinding them against his throbbing flesh. Her inner walls were hot and slick about him they sucked him in deeper and deeper, driving him on, driving him wild.

Lucius growled as she bent closer to him, capturing a nipple which tormented his lips, sucking so hard on the budded peak she called out his name in agonised pleasure, propelling him up harder into her willing body.

“Lucius...I…”

The glorious tension building within Hermione skyrocketed to its zenith, she couldn’t hold on any longer, overwhelmingly finding herself falling in the ecstasy of her climax, moaning his name as her walls clenched sporadically around him still moving deep within her. Triggered by her climax, Lucius came, grunting and moaning out his pleasure around the breast he still suckled.

He sagged back into the softness his bed, their breathing gradually steadying together as Hermione slumped over him. His energy and body might have been depleted but he still enjoyed the feel of her soft warm body across his, wrapping his arms about her, he felt his eyelids become heavy, a slumberous satisfied smile settling on his flushed face.

For a second time that day Hermione awoke alone in Lucius Malfoy’s huge bed, this time however she did not awake to the muffled tones of his aristocratic voice, but to a brief, elegantly written note, incredulously it was pinned to one of two identical dresses which magically hung on padded hangers in front of his wardrobe. One was an iridescent white silver, a shade or two lighter than Lucius Malfoy’s eyes, the other a bright, vibrant red, the exact colour of her glinting nails. Hermione sat up in the bed, pulling the cool rumpled sheet across her slightly tender breast.

“Accio note” She said, propping herself up against the large disarrayed pillows.

_My Dear Hermione_

_It would appear I am going to find myself even deeper in your debt, but alas work calls, well some last minute preparations for this evening that is. I shall look forward to repaying it … with interest, of course._

Her skin tingled at the thought as she read on.

_I am sure you did not plan on attending a formal party this weekend, so I have taken the liberty of providing you with something to wear, I trust you are not offended, and I hope you approve of my taste._

“I don’t know what you taste like.” Hermione mused aloud, a wicked smile tugging at her mouth “Yet”.

She licked her lips, her eyes darting across the elegant writing.

_I must also apologise, as I neglected to mention the party is themed, fire and ice, hence the two options. I very much look forward to seeing you in one later, 7.30. The password for entry is Icarus._

The short note was signed simply with a black L.

As had become the norm over the last few hours, Hermione’s person divided itself promptly in two. The Unspeakable, intrigued at the use of a Password to gain entry to a party, wondering if there was any significance in the name, Icarus, a man who dared to chance his luck, flying too close to danger. The simple, feminine Hermione was more interested in the two columns of shimmering, beaded silk hanging across the room, they were exquisite, and deciding which one to wear would be nigh on impossible. In terms of style Lucius Malfoy’s taste was exceptional.

In order to do one of the dresses proper justice, spoil herself a little bit in the process and of course turn Lucius Malfoy’s head, Hermione decided to leave the rest of her appearance to the professionals. Having left the two dresses now hanging in her own room, she booked herself a relaxing appointment in the Hotel’s beauty salon for a little later. Next she needed something to eat, her grumbling stomach once again finding it necessary to remind her she hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. In a rather sharp u turn, Hermione was determined to make the most of her weekend, in every way possible.

As well as the Merlin starred Blades, two of the bars at the hotel also served food, as she’d already enjoyed a drink or two in the Libro, Hermione opted for Ludos this time, requesting a chicken baguette from yet another ridiculously smart house elf, adding some chips to her order as her stomach grumbled yet again at its neglect. 

Tucked away in a cosy corner, on a very comfortable sofa, Hermione looked out over the grounds, sipping on an also much needed cup of tea. Watching with great interest as a few more guests arrived, some via a fountain portkey, one even on a broomstick, she wasn’t sure if any were attending Lucius’ party or if they were simply here to relax for the weekend. In her peripheral vision she could see the large white dome of the ice palace, Hermione Granger felt a little burble of very girlish excitement rush through her veins. She thought of the two beautiful dresses hanging in her room, still having no idea which colour she would wear, the silver sandals and evening clutch she’d fortunately found in the bottom of her small extended bag did nothing to narrow down her choice, they would look stunning with either. It would just be down to how she felt later. The Unspeakable felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins as she thought of Lucius Malfoy’s guest list.

Her lunch arrived with a pop and another house elf. It might have been a far simpler fayre than her meal last night, but it looked just as delicious. Hermione’s mouth practically watering at the steaming chips which landed on the table before her, the scent of warm vinegar impossible to resist as she grabbed one from the pile, popping it hungrily into her mouth. A glass of what looked like ice cold white wine appeared alongside her meal, and Hermione raised her eyes to the elf. Trying to speak and juggle the hottest chip ever around in her mouth.

“I did…n’t…” She tried to blow on the boiling vegetable as it seared her tongue, fanning her mouth uselessly with her hand.

“Order wine.” She finally managed, swallowing with equal difficulty.

The small creature moved a little to one side, his huge blue eyes gesticulating towards the bar.

“The gentleman over there, sent it with his compliments.”

Something told Hermione, the gentleman over there was not going to be her host, even fearful, the house elf would have been far more respectful of his employer and would most certainly have referred to him by name. She glanced in the general direction that the creature indicated. Standing at the bar with a drink of his own was the fat, puffed up cornflake she’d seen earlier. Hermione’s gaze went from him, back to the house elf and to the glass of wine sitting before her, picking up another hot chip with the unlikely hope that it would aid her dilemma.

Hermione had purposely not ordered any alcohol with her lunch, not only was it a little too early in the day for her, but she wanted to at least arrive at the party with a clear head. Politeness would also decree accepting the wine would mean making polite conversation of some sort, with a man she had already decided she didn’t like very much. However, having seen him with Julius Nihil, accepting the drink and making polite conversation might be more advantageous, perhaps it was a small price to pay, and she had a good excuse to leave once her lunch was finished. 

“That’s very kind of the gentleman.” Hermione said to the small elf, over another hot chip.

“Please extend my thanks and ask him if he would like to join me.”

The blue eyed creature nodded subserviently, his large ears bobbing slightly as he plodded slowly across the room. Hermione took the opportunity to take a bite or two from her baguette, chewing and crumbs were not a good look, no matter how much she didn’t like her soon to be _companion_. She saw the man look even more dismissively at the elf than Lucius Malfoy, a condescending sneer on his overly round face. It was replaced by a somewhat lecherous smile, as he picked up his drink, straightened his tight waistcoat, buttoned his jacket and barrelled his way across the floor to join Hermione. Her skin all but crept at his approach, she took another bite of her sandwich before her appetite deserted her completely.

Hermione dabbed her mouth with the napkin the elf had provided alongside her lunch, this time the gold embossed F was against fine black damask, she placed it back in her lap, hopefully it hadn’t left a too false smile in its wake.

“Thank you for the wine Mister…?”

That smile made Hermione’s flesh creep just a little further, the man was clearly not only full of his own self-importance, but also thought himself Merlin’s gift to women.

“Sirron, Sandor Sirron.” He said without extending his hand or waiting to be asked to sit down.

Hermione found her hackles rising a little further, but she lifted her glass and raised it to him before raising it to her lips, her contrived smile vanishing against the chilled rim and into a very small sip of the icy cold liquid.

Having unbuttoned his jacket once more, he settled his large backside thankfully into one of the arm chairs, but it was still far too close for Hermione’s liking.

As he had sent a drink over Hermione assumed he knew who she was, but from the expression on his chubby pink face, he was clearly waiting for her to introduce herself. Hermione toyed with the idea of giving him a false name, but as she was attending the party later on, and there was every likelihood that he would be there too, she thought better of it.

“Hermione Granger.” She said, putting the glass down and exchanging it for a now slightly cooler chip, which she all but shoved in her mouth.

Sandor Sirron might not have recognised who she was, but he was certainly familiar with her name, it was written all over those jowly features, his heavy brows rising as his dark beady eyes narrowed, his smile seeming to become all the more lecherous. Hermione’s appetite well and truly disappeared, and she returned her attention to the wine, keeping her hands busy and away from her wand.

“Then it really is a pleasure to meet you.”

She felt her blood run as cold as the alcohol, acknowledging his comment with just a small inclination of her head and trying to contain her coolness.

“Are you here for the spa or the sport, Mister Sirron?” Hermione asked conversationally, already knowing it was neither, and doubting with his physique the man would be interested in either anyway. She was also certain, he was hardly likely to give anything away, inadvertently or otherwise.

“Sandor, please … Hermione.”

Again Hermione acknowledged his words with just a small movement of her head, not entirely trusting herself to speak either, the sound of her own name on his thin lips grating against her ears. This man’s arrogance made Lucius Malfoy look positively contrite, and unlike the former Death Eater, this man really did leave ice running through her veins, she tried not to allow it to frost on her skin.

“Officially neither, although I might find time for a little sport of some sort.”

There was something very obnoxious about Sandor Sirron, his inappropriate tone and the way he all but leered at her. Hermione’s skin almost got up and left the room of its own volition, but she gritted her teeth, offering him a not too encouraging smile, one which certainly didn’t reach her usually warm brown eyes.

“I am told the hotel boasts an exceptionally good golf course, tennis courts and clay pigeon shooting if that is more your thing.”

Not really wanting to be here, her mind drifted briefly back to her own deliciously failed attempt at clay pigeon shooting, right now wishing she’d stayed in Lucius Malfoy’s bed and ordered room service.

This time it was the puffed up cornflake who simply motioned his bald head, clearly these were none of the sports that interested him, he took a sip of his own drink, evidently impatient to talk about something else…her.

“And what about you Hermione, what brings you to this particular Hotel?”

The sly inference in his voice, put her senses more on alert than ever. Exactly what had Lucius Malfoy been talking to Julius Nihil about? Telling him perhaps that Hermione Granger was at the hotel, possibly confiding his suspicions about what she did at the Ministry, that maybe his plans should change. Had Julius Nihil sent his crony to cunningly find out more? 

“Actually Mist ..Sandor.” His name almost stuck in her throat.

“Nothing brought me here, I was sent by my boss at the Ministry of Magic.”

Her choice of words was calculated, and she scrutinised his reaction, prolonging her pause with a sip of her wine. Over the thin rim of her glass Hermione noticed a tiny bead of perspiration form on his upper lip, saw his fingers tighten just a little around his own heavy tumbler. Well that certainly hit a nerve, she mused, job done she quickly moved on. 

“It’s a _punishment”._ Hermione giggled, toying with the thin stem of her glass.

“For not taking any time off and working too hard. I was sent here to relax.”

She looked at the man sitting with her, her giggly, girlish revelation had changed his demeanour once again. Hermione’s keen sense of intuition told her, the unease she was feeling had nothing to do with Lucius Malfoy’s conversation with his undesirable acquaintance, but everything to do with the odious Sandor Sirron.

“I hope you are doing as you are told, and you must let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” He said, that lecherous look back in his eyes, his tone steeped in inappropriateness.

“The owner is a friend of mine.” He added without any need.

Hermione chewed on the inside of her lip, it was blatantly obvious, Sandor Sirron was a man who got by on his connections, who he knew as opposed to what he actually knew. He liked to name drop, use those connections to his advantage and was definitely out for his own gain. 

To his obvious surprise Hermione rose from the sofa, his brows knitting together in consternation, his dark eyes unimpressed.

“I’m so sorry Mister Sirron, Sandor.” She gushed, using that girlish tone once again.

“I really would love to stay and chat more, but I have a couple of salon appointments booked, and I really don’t want to be late.”

She gave him another of those overly bright feigned smiles,

“Thank you so much for the drink, If I need anything I will be sure to let you know.” Not Hermione added under her breath.

Hermione felt Julius Nihil’s rotund henchman’s eyes watching her every move as she left the room, her skin crawling as if Nagini had slithered all over it. She had a good hour before her first salon appointment, she would be spending most of it in the shower.


	12. The Palace of Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year my fabulous readers. Lots of thanks yous for little gifts which came in the guise of lovely comments.
> 
> If you were in need of a party after all of the festivities here's one for you to hopefully enjoy...well a bit of one anyway :-) Apologies as always for any errors etc.

Hermione groaned aloud as she stood in front of the full length cheval mirror in her room, wearing the iridescent white silver dress, then it was the vibrant red one, then back to the white silver and back again to the red, this had been going on for a full twenty minutes or more. Both dresses looked stunning in very different ways and Hermione just couldn't make up her mind which one to wear. She had hoped that once her hair had been styled and make up professionally applied it would all fall into place and her choice would be easy, that was coming up to what was actually nearer half an hour ago. Just as she had predicted, the high heeled silver strappy sandals and evening bag did nothing to aid her choice, they complimented both dresses with spectacular ease.

"Urgh this is ridiculous!" She complained to herself, swapping the dresses over yet again.

"Make it silver, make it red." Again she muttered aloud looking at her reflection in the long mirror, almost stamping her elegantly shod foot.

A smile suddenly curving her lightly glossed lips as she was reminded of one of her favourite films from her childhood; two angry little fairies fighting with their wands over the colour of a dress for their Princess, at once point it had ended up half pink and half blue, Hermione's smile broadened.

"Accio wand."

With a brief wave of her own wand Hermione replicated Flora and Merryweather's handiwork by splicing the two beautiful gowns together, she wasn't entirely sure how her spell would work, but was delighted with the result. Leaving her with what was in fact the perfect combination for the fire and ice theme, the top half of the gown glittered in iridescent white silver, the tiny beads and sequins looking like shimmering icicles. The vibrant hot red silk swept at an angle across her hips, the entire thing clung unforgivingly to her slender but feminine shape. The splicing had even resulted in a rather nice side split which revealed a very shapely leg and those high heeled strappy sandals. Oh yes indeed, Hermione was very pleased with the result, twirling around in front of the mirror with an exceedingly pleased smile on her face. Slipping her wand into an artfully concealed pocket in the skirt, adding a tiny hint of red to her glossed lips and a squirt of her favourite perfume, Hermione had the odd sense of déjà vu.

As the ice palace had been constructed adjacent to the hotel itself, its arched, flowered and bejewelled entrance was outside. To ensure that guests remained dry in the event of rain, and warm in the still chilly evenings, a covered, heated walkway had also been erected. The canopy was adorned with snow covered leaves and twigs and was attached to one of the small side doors at the front of the hotel, a burly livered wizard stood on guard, ensuring everyone provided the correct password to gain entrance to the exclusive gathering, Hermione included.

"Icarus." She whispered to the stern faced man and was granted immediate access.

The floor beneath the carefully decorated awning was covered in a thick luscious white carpet resembling soft snow, the subtly glowing lanterns which hung on sharp spikes, provided both the heat and the light, red and yellow flames dancing brightly behind frosted glass casings. The small tent like construction somehow managed to remind Hermione of the marquee Molly and Arthur Weasley had for Fleur and Bill's wedding, an afternoon which had been brought to an abrupt halt by the fall of the Ministry of Magic and news that Death Eaters were on their way. Despite the heated lanterns an icy chill streaked down Hermione's spine, she hoped this recollection suddenly flooding her mind wasn't a bad omen. The untimely memory also served as a sharp reminder as to what the man she had enjoyed such intense pleasure with, was capable of, and had once been. Neither the Unspeakable or Hermione Granger needed any reminders, but Hermione found herself strongly focused on the _had been_ part. The Unspeakable might have enjoyed the bedroom antics just as much but was also reminded of the unobscured view from the window and was perhaps not so certain of the _had been._

From the outside the Palace of Ice looked like an oversized igloo, but once inside thanks to some very clever magic, it was just as elegant, swanky one might say, as the hotel itself. The thick luscious white carpet that resembled snow continued inside, it covered all but two areas of the floor, a small square area, which she assumed was a dance floor and a patch in front of the bar. Whilst these were both clearly wooden, they had been whitened to give the impression of being frozen, the host really had thought of everything. Talking of the host Hermione cast her eyes across the opulently decorated space, looking for Lucius Malfoy. So much for a small private party she thought, unable to spot the Dark Wizard through the sea of heads, famous and infamous faces.

Lucius Malfoy certainly had an elite guest list, his business associates were a veritable array, a wizarding who's who, some she recognised from headlines in the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, and some she had no idea who they were. But there were also quite a few that she recognised from the Ministry of Magic's files, many of whom the Unspeakable Hermione Granger, was extremely interested in, Dark Witches and Wizards who had gone to ground for various reasons, some whom she knew had spent time in Azkaban and even Nurmengard and others who had successfully evaded aurors for years. Hermione found herself once again split, the Unspeakable almost whooping for joy at so many, most wanted under one roof, that really couldn't be a coincidence. Hermione Granger however was more than a little disappointed, sad even that Lucius Malfoy still associated with such wizards. She knew from those same Ministry files, when she had happened across his name, that there was quite literally nothing in his own more recent activities that indicated the former Death Eater was up to anything, but old habits did die hard. Perhaps it really was just business she tried to tell the annoyingly excited Unspeakable.

For her own part, the odd head glanced in her direction, she even received a smile here and then, but all in all she felt she wasn't drawing too much attention or rattling too many wands with her presence.

Reminding herself that she wasn't working, or on assignment, Hermione tried to be just Hermione, for now at least and made her way to the bar. Whilst itself not carved in ice, it boasted many magical creatures on its counter top who were, all expertly sculpted and glistening in the beautiful atmospheric lighting. She found herself next to a coiled snake, silently musing how apt it was, and helping herself to a glass of rosé champagne from a perfectly flowing fountain... Lucius Malfoy really had pulled out all of the stops, or in this case corks. Hermione lifted the bubbling saucer to her lips; the salmon pink alcohol was perfectly chilled and delicious. Her eyes drifted to the label, a smile tugging at her wet lips, Bollinger, how very Muggle and of course how very expensive.

"Hermione!"

A creepily familiar voice sounded at her ear, Hermione felt her freshly bathed skin crawl once more and her blood chill to the temperature of the champagne. She took another swig from her glass and turned towards the sound of Sandor Sirron's unwelcome tones, of course he was here, she knew he would be. His dark, deep set piggy eyes were more narrowed and seemed a little more unfriendly than they had done earlier.

"I wasn't aware that you had been invited." He went on, his tone decidedly edged with suspicion as he all but accused her of gate-crashing.

Hermione smiled, this time there was nothing feigned in its frostiness.

"You didn't ask." She almost snapped, unable to bring herself to use either his given name or his more formal address.

The obnoxious man glanced around; another heavy tumbler clasped in his pudgy hand.

"A palace of ice." He observed needlessly.

"You must feel right at home."

Hermione should have been offended, but she wasn't, instead she hid both her amusement and delight in his noting her cool demeanour, behind the much larger rim of the champagne saucer. His claws were definitely out, she certainly hadn't imagined the unfriendly undertones, obviously directed at her leaving him in the bar earlier. She was about to respond when another familiar, much more welcome voice caressed her ears.

"There you are my dear, you look absolutely beautiful."

Accompanying the easy compliment, Hermione felt a large warm hand at the base of her spine, its heat searing through the thin silk of her dress and joyfully heating her chilled blood. She noticed the puffed up cornflake's small eyes widen in surprise and an oddly worried look settle on his round face. She turned into Lucius Malfoy; he looked every inch the important, affluent host in his dark impeccably tailored dress robes. His imposing presence and intoxicating cologne overshadowing everything, his splayed palm remained on her lower back, his other hand firmly clasped around his cane. Her mind once again flashed back to much earlier in the day, warmth now flushing her neck and cheeks.

"Thank you Lucius, as you can see I found it impossible to choose, you really do have exquisite taste."

A roguish, incredibly appreciative smile curved his sensual mouth and he licked his lips. "In all things…" He added, a sexy undertone now lacing his voice.

"And how very creative of you."

His admiring gaze became cold as it drifted to the fat man at her side and warmly back again.

"Are you oiling or ruffling." He whispered as if they were quite alone.

Hermione had wondered if perhaps the former Death Eater's words about stirring things up and having some fun of his own had been an idle promise, but he seemed true to his word and enjoying himself to boot.

Her twinkling brown eyes met his now questioning blue grey.

"I thought the former, but it appears the latter." She saw those blue grey eyes of his narrow as they moved back to the man to whom she had been speaking.

"Sirron." Lucius acknowledged the man; his tenor just as dismissive as it had been with the house elves.

Obviously Sandor Sirron had exaggerated somewhat, clearly he was not as good a friend of the owner as he had purported to be, but then Hermione was hardly surprised by that revelation.

The puffed up cornflake now looked decidedly uneasy, nodding at Lucius' address, those beady eyes of his darting between the Dark Wizard and Hermione. His pigeon chest heaving with the knowledge that he might have in some way stepped on Lucius Malfoy's toes, it was undoubtedly a frightening prospect.

"I wasn't aware that you knew Miss Granger."

Lucius' tone was harsh, Hermione noticed the rotund man swallow hard, just as he had done earlier in the bar, one hand tightened around his glass, the other tugged uncomfortably at another tightly fitting jacket, this one belonging to the tuxedo he wore, clearly nervous traits, as was the bead of sweat which again formed on his top lip. It was rather satisfying to see this annoying, obnoxious man sweat, devilment got the better of her.

"We met earlier in the bar." She told Lucius honestly, her brown eyes narrowing at the now very uncomfortable man.

"Mister Sirron, brought me a drink."

The puffed up cornflake looked as if her were about to speak, but Hermione was enjoying his discomfiture far too much and continued quickly.

"And being such a good friend of yours..." She felt Lucius stiffen at her side.

"He asked if there was anything he could do to make my stay more pleasurable."

The words let alone the thought almost stuck in her throat and Hermione sipped innocently on her champagne, washing away the nasty taste the thought left. Without even looking at Lucius Malfoy's face, she could imagine the look on it, she could feel his reaction through his touch and saw the white knuckles around the silver headed serpent. Oh yes Sandor Sirron had definitely overplayed his _friendship with the owner,_ his sweaty, uneasy silence spoke volumes. Hermione went on conversationally, as if she were completely unaware that anything was amiss.

"I had to dash off before I could assure him there was nothing, that my stay was already much more satisfying than I had anticipated …"

She shifted against Lucius' loose embrace, his thumb gently circling her lower back was as distracting as it was unfairly erotic. The flush that had warmed her neck and cheeks spread like wildfire through her body, the silk of her gown accentuating his delicate touch... unbelievably more satisfying and pleasurable than she could ever have anticipated, Hermione thought savouring another sip of the thankfully chilled champagne.

"Sirron."

A third voice almost snapped behind Hermione, this time it was one she didn't recognise, the two men with her obviously did, and all three turned towards its sound.

Julius Nihil was even taller up close than he had appeared from Lucius Malfoy's bedroom window. He had at least two or three inches on the Dark Wizard and was a good foot taller than his pudgy sidekick. His attire was similar if the not the same as it had been earlier, a very dark charcoal grey suit, with velvet lapels was worn over an equally sombre shirt, a slightly lighter grey tie secured it at the neck.

His hazel eyes surveyed the other three from beneath dark rimmed spectacles which sat half way down his large nose.

"Sir"

Sandor Sirron looked and sounded even more uncomfortable than he had done when addressed by Lucius, practically squirming as he fell under the unblinking gaze of Julius Nihil.

"Did you attend to those …"

The man currently at the top of the Ministry of Magic's most wanted list seemed to lose his train of thought, his focus shifting to the blonde man.

"Lucius."

He said almost absently as that unblinking hazel gaze settled on Hermione.

"I don't think _your friend_ and I have met."

Hermione noticed those hazel eyes take in the protective, no possessive, arm Lucius had about her, unlike the obnoxious Sandor Sirron, she was not unsettled by either Julius Nihil's gaze or his tone. She however knew enough about old wizarding values and etiquette not to introduce herself, but to wait to be presented. If her presence here was going to ruffle his feathers the least she could do was allow the host to do the ruffling …


	13. Crime de la Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping first. Thank you as always for lovely reviews comments and kudos you are all too kind, and I am so pleased that you are enjoying this. I must apologise for an even slower update this time, my head has not been in the writing zone, due to the loss of one of my dogs. I am trying to use my writing as a distraction but it isn't always so easy. That said I do apologise for any errors etc and hope that you enjoy this chapter. ...

Under the fixed bespectacled gaze of Julius Nihil, Hermione’s own eyes drifted briefly to their host. Lucius’ bearing was far more menacing and condescending than it had been at any time over the last 24 hours or so that she had spent with him, his dark dress robes highlighting the fact to perfection. His aristocratic tone was decidedly more clipped and intimidating, his always noble head was held higher and tilted with more arrogance than ever, allowing that long sleek, shiny mane of hair of his to fall with elegant superiority down his back making his presence even more powerful and imposing, and Hermione once again saw the man she knew and loathed of old, Draco Malfoy’s hateful pureblood father.

“Forgive my tardy manners; Julius.” He offered dismissively.

Hermione’s gaze flittered between the two formidable men but was once again drawn back to the handsome blonde wizard. If she didn’t know better Hermione swore, she saw the tiniest flare of his snooty nostrils and an infinitesimal smirk dance along his lips, her eyes lingering on them a moment longer than they should have, before moving to his expressive grey eyes, they seemed to have an odd glint in their depths.

She realised, the emphasised, menacing condescension was apparently for the benefit of the other two men, as his long fingers continued to dance sensually against the silk at the base of her spine, his others still furled lightly around the silver head of his cane, the green eyes of the serpent once again glinting in unison with their master.

“This is very close friend of mine Miss Hermione Granger.” There was an inference on the word close, which leant itself to a very different meaning.

“Hermione, that _very important_ guest I mentioned earlier.”

Hermione’s lips twitched, she bit down on one of them, a slim brow arching in amusement at his choice of words and introduction…Oh there was a very devilish glint in those blue grey eyes of his now.

“Julius Nihil”

Behind those dark rimmed glasses, Hermione saw Julius Nihil’s hazel eyes widen, and a thick greying brow of his own rose. He outstretched a large ringed hand, taking her much smaller one in his firm grasp, his cold fingers encircling hers.

“The Hermione Granger!” He said in a low baritone voice.

It was a statement, an almost accusatory one at that, not a question. It went without saying that her name was as famous as ever within the wizarding community, and Hermione Granger was still a formidable witch, but now as far most people were concerned she simply dealt in imports and exports, supposedly giving her antics of old a very wide berth and dealing with more inanimate objects.

“Well aren’t you the dark horse my friend.”

Julius Nihil’s narrowed eyes moved slowly over Hermione, an impressed but slightly wary look cast towards his friend.

Hermione felt a slight note of tension between the two men, she might only deal in _imports and exports_ but her presence, and Lucius’ _involvement_ with her had visibly ruffled Julius Nihil’s feathers. Hermione wasn’t averse to a little smoothing.

“Aha” She said slowly with a soft laugh, ignoring the inference in Julius Nihil’s look and responding simply to Lucius’ introduction.

“The very important guest who deprived me of…” Hermione licked her lightly glossed lips with equal slowness, the devilish glint in Lucius Malfoy’s eyes all but dared her to say the words, his mouth twitching in expectation.

“The pleasure of Lucius’ co…mpany this morning.” Her smile was as wicked as Lucius’ twinkling eyes.

This time it was electricity that crackled in the air between Hermione and Lucius, and she shifted sensually against the hand which now rested at the base of her spine.

She noticed the look on the other man’s face change to one of curiosity and took advantage of his softening features, responding to his unspoken question.

“I did promise him I wouldn’t tell you; you weren’t my favourite person at the party, and why, it would appear I have broken that promise, but it’s a pleasure to meet you Mister Nihil.”

The grey haired man surprisingly laughed aloud, the humour genuinely glistening in his eyes.

“Julius please.” He insisted.

His tone was not as clipped and aristocratic as Lucius’ but was none the less refined and still edged with that edgy note of quiet superiority.

“It is a pleasure to meet you too Miss Granger.” His cool fingers were still wrapped around hers and he shook her hand in earnest this time.

Hermione’s own grip was firm in response, she had always been taught that you could tell a lot from a person by the way they shook your hand.

“Your reputation of old obviously precedes you.”

Those hazel eyes remained firmly fixed on her, his hand still holding hers as he continued to speak.

“And whilst I hear you lead a much quieter life, these days, it would appear you are as feisty as ever. I like that.”

Hermione acknowledged his words and his compliment with a slight tilt of her head. Oh if only he knew, she mused silently, her smile broadening. She couldn’t help but wonder how he, and anyone else for that matter, would have reacted had she been more … _honest_ with her admission.

Sandor Sirron coughed loudly, interrupting the conversation, his dark deep set eyes looking purposely at the man for whom he worked. Julius Nihil nodded curtly.

“It would appear that you are going to look upon me even less favourably Miss Granger, as I fear I must steal our host away for a short time to discuss some important business.”

Hermione felt a crashing wave of disappointment rush through her veins, not only at the loss of contact from Lucius’ warm fingers at her back, but at the fact that evidently, he was very much involved in some sort of dubious business with the man at the top of the Ministry’s most wanted list. She liked to think it was just business, something to do with the hotel, dubious or otherwise, but the Unspeakable was convinced otherwise and already telling her I told you so.

Sandor Sirron had a nasty sneer on his round face, as if he was pleased to be taking Lucius Malfoy away from her. Oh how she’d love to hex the horrible little man, or better still resort to some very childish and Muggle like behaviour and smack him right on the nose. Hermione hoped he would be leaving with them, and she was not going to be stuck with the odious man again. Fortunately he pompously preceded both Nihil and Lucius, barrelling his way across another room.

“I won’t be long my dear.” Lucius whispered at her ear, his lips brushing the shell.

Her musky perfume invaded his nostrils and he found himself wanting to run his tongue down the pale exposed skin of her neck and one bare shoulder. Stunning as she looked in the column of silver and red silk, he wanted the shimmering material in a puddle at her high heeled feet…otherwise naked. He withheld the groan that formed on his lips, as his body stirred at the notion, he moved away quickly, following Julius Nihil and cursing him at the same time, twice in one day, this man had deprived him of the delights of Miss Hermione Granger.

A shiver galloped down Hermione’s spine, in a heady mix of erotic excitement and inquisitive adrenalin. That intoxicating spicy scent of his cologne combined with his latent masculinity left her in a fog of his own as he moved away. She none the less watched intently, noticing several other wizards and witches take their cue from the two men. Some of the infamous faces known to her, quite literally some of the crime de la crime of the wizarding world, including Dr Vesper Drax, whom she hadn’t spotted until now, this witch was currently the top of MACUSA’s most wanted list, an expert in potions, mostly of the dark and forbidden variety, she made the late Professor Snape look like an amateur. The tall, very slim woman, moved with catlike grace, amidst of throng of mostly men, but they all followed in the same direction and exited the room. Much as Hermione Granger wanted to give the Dark Wizard the benefit of the doubt, it looked as if the Unspeakable was right after all, the man was a fraud. The former Death Eater supposedly turned legitimate, respected businessman could still suck you in, put on a good show and deceptive front when he needed to.

Sighing, Hermione stuck her champagne saucer irritably back into the bubbling pink fountain and refilled it, taking a hefty slug she consoled herself with the fact, that to find out anything for certain, obtain any proof of what was going on, she needed to keep Lucius Malfoy sweet and on side, and she would continue enjoying doing so. The Unspeakable also assured Hermione Granger that standing by the bar sipping deliciously expensive pink champagne would not aid the quest for corroboration or information, mooning around was definitely one of those cons, for not mixing business and pleasure. Hermione eased her way across the room through the remaining guests, glass in hand she followed the direction the three men, and several others had gone in.

Reaching the far side of the ice sculpted room, Hermione looked warily at the curtain of tinkling faux icicles which hung across a locked doorway leading from the palace itself. She had no idea what was beyond it, or what to expect. She could find herself right in the middle on an extremely dangerous, very unfriendly room. But something in her witch’s instinct told her, that a meeting of the crème de la crème of Dark Wizarding minds would not be happening just behind a tinkling curtain of faux white icicles. Extracting her wand from the concealed pocket, Hermione pointed it discreetly at the frosted lock.

“Alohomora.” She murmured quietly.

The door opened, and she moved through that to, into what she really thought would be some secret chamber or corridor, but actually was a little surprised to find herself back in the main hotel. Perhaps conjuring a concealed room within the ice palace was asking a bit too much, even of a skilled wizard like Lucius Malfoy. Hermione glanced around wondering where Julius Nihil and the others had gone, she was just along from the Ludos bar and there were three tightly closed doors about her. Having been left at the party and assured by Lucius that he wouldn’t be long, she could hardly pop her head round the door and make out she was looking for the ladies. Hermione wished that she had an extendable ear like the one Crookshanks had stolen from Fred and George Weasley when she, Ronald and Harry had been trying to eavesdrop on the Order. Had she been on an official assignment it might have been something SIDD would have provided for her.

The Spells Incantations and Devices Department at the Ministry of Magic, affectionately known as SIDD, did precisely what it said on the door. The quartermaster was an eccentric old wizard in charge of providing operatives with new spells, incantations and devices that might come in handy on their mission. Although Hermione wasn’t entirely sure that even SIDD would have thought to have provided her with an extending ear…just in case.

Leaving her glass in a large plant pot, much to chagrin of an onlooking portrait, which frowned angrily at her. Hermione tried to inconspicuously listen at the first heavy door, causing the portrait’s frown to deepen and it to tsk loudly, shaking its head in disapproval. Hearing nothing she moved carefully on to the second, her high heels clattering on the polished wooden floor, again she could hear nothing coming from behind the locked timber. Before she had even reached the third, Hermione heard a muffled cacophony of sound reverberating from inside, nothing distinguishable though just voices, everyone seemed to be talking loudly all at once, which was most unhelpful and of no use whatsoever. She moved closer, putting her own ear against the cold oak. The noise level had reduced, and she could now make out a solitary voice, there was no mistaking the aristocratic tones of Lucius Malfoy clearly addressing the assembled group, Julius Nihil and Sandor Sirron included. Hermione glanced furtively around her, pressing her ear harder against the door, even the unmistakable tenor of Lucius Malfoy did not travel plainly trough aged oak.

“Ladies and Gentleman, I will dispense with the pleasantries except to thank you all for being here and hand the floor over to Julius.”

Hermione could hear the hum of appreciative tones as Lucius, presumably stood aside to allow his friend to speak, knowing he was the mastermind behind whatever criminality was afoot and was about to put all of the pieces of the puzzle together. The assembled witches and wizards all having their own particular fragment and waiting expectantly to hear how they fitted into the jigsaw and what came next.

Hermione decided that Harry’s cloak of invisibility would actually have been more beneficial than the extending ear, Julius Nihil’s low baritone was far less audible than Lucius Malfoy’s clipped tone and she struggled to hear any of his words through the thick door. Even if it wasn’t locked, cracking it open would be foolhardy even for her, she cursed under her breath, not noticing the large metal handle had begun to turn.

“Wizards have achieved miracles in every field of endeavour except for crime… Operation Grand Slam”

She heard these words with much more clarity, her mind racing as to what they could mean and what had preceded them, suddenly realising as the door creaked loudly that it was already actually opening and was why she had finally been able to hear Julius Nihil’s speaking.

“Crap” She muttered straightening and quickly walking away, grabbing her glass from the plant pot as she went, her heels once more clattering on the polished wooden floor.

“Hermione…” If the slimy tone of Sandor Sirron was not enough to stop her in her tracks then, the sweaty fat fingers around her arm, and sharp tip of a wand at the nape of her neck certainly were.


	14. Something Evil Comes This Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for your lovely comments and Kudos. I really hope that my slightly longer than usual updates are not detracting you from the story. I know it's not a heavy plot, but combining two such fictions I want to at least try and do them both justice, so thanks for sticking with me. As always apologies for any errors etc etc...ENJOY...

"That's a nasty little habit you have there, listening at keyholes." Sandor Sirron's voice was unforgiving and sneering, laced with an "I knew it tone".

Hermione found the fear coursing through her blood replaced by anger and revulsion, his clammy hand on her, exacerbating both. Perhaps it was fortuitous that the person "catching" her as it were was Sandor Sirron, his uncanny knack of being able to irritate and repulse her all at once, working very much in the young witch's favour.

She spun around to face him with such ferocity that his stubby fat fingers were forced to relinquish their grasp on her bare arm. The indentation of his hand however remained on her skin, leaving an angry red mark in their wake, Hermione felt as if she had been branded.

Despite his bulky stature, the hateful man was swift, and not distracted for a moment, his wand now coming to rest against her jaw. Hermione's brown eyes narrowed indignantly at him and she tried to keep her voice as steady and even as she could.

"And that is a nasty little habit you have there too Mister Sirron."

Hermione tilted her head definitely with her words, the action allowing a few tendrils of her hair to escape from the elegant chignon it had been styled into, but more frighteningly causing Sirron's wand to drop to her throat.

Still she maintained her composure, it was hardly the first time the Unspeakable had found herself in such a precarious position, and hopefully it wouldn't be the last.

"Grabbing women without warning or their consent." She spat the words at him contemptuously, showing him her disgust at the implication.

Sirron remained as undeterred and defiant as Hermione, puffing his chest out and edging a step closer to the young witch, his dark wand pressing harder against her pulsing jugular.

"Or perhaps you save that for those with whom you don't get what you want."

In case he was in any doubt what she meant, Hermione venomously clarified her point, although with a wand at her throat she really was pushing her luck. Goading the odious Sandor Sirron, might not be her wisest course of action just now, but she remained unflinching. Hermione was not going to concede an inch of her ground or show him any weakness. He had after all caught her doing nothing untoward, save of course walking down a hotel corridor, which could hardly be considered a crime. Moments before with her ear pressed to the door… well that would have been suspicious and a tad more difficult to explain, but he hadn't, she bristled at the thought, standing even taller than usual in her strappy sandals, bringing her almost to his height.

Her narrowed unblinking gaze remained fixed on the bald man. An angry muscle pulsed franticly in his jowly face and his lips curled. Hermione felt the cool tip of his wand sink further into her flesh and despite herself she swallowed hard, her brain racing for a way out. Dare she turn on those spikey heels and just walk away from him? It was a hotel after all, it was a very public hallway, would he actually have the nerve to do anything to harm her, draw any unwanted attention to himself or his criminally minded boss? But she knew nothing about her adversary or the lengths he was prepared to go to. Hermione weighed up her options and the situation she found herself in, it was a calculated risk, but she wasn't entirely sure it was one she was prepared to take. The fact that she had to think twice about it told her, no she shouldn't. RM always taught his Unspeakables, if you have to think twice about a question, the answer was always no, she'd never gone against his words and now was certainly not a good time to start.

Her fingers drummed lightly against the evening bag she still carried, unfortunately there was nothing inside from SIDD that would help her, actually there was nothing of much use at all inside the extremely small bag except her lipstick and a tissue. Her other hand shifted casually against the shimmering silk of her dress, in the concealed pocket was her own wand, Hermione could feel the outline of the slim vine wood as she pretended to smooth red material. Again she contemplated the situation, Sirron's wand was still at her throat, not matter how skilled and fast she was, in the time it would take her to draw it, he could have hexed her or worse, it wasn't worth taking the chance, and duelling with the man, would make her actually look guilty of _something._ Instead she bided her time, continuing to stare him out and wondering just what he was planning on doing with her.

From the room behind Sandor Sirron, Hermione could hear muted voices, most of them were drifting away, presumably through another doorway, back to the Ice Palace and the party, but two became louder, more audible. These two more distinguishable voices came towards her and Sirron, their quiet conversation was accompanied by a familiar tapping sound against the polished wooden floor, Hermione knew without a thought, it wasn't anyone's heels.

Lucius Malfoy's silver tipped, ebony cane clicked against the hard wood, just like her heels and just as it had done on the cobbled stone in the Department of Mysteries, many years before as he'd moved slowly and deliberately towards her, Harry and their friends. His movement now, as he accompanied Julius Nihil, was just as slow, just as deliberate and equally as threatening, but without the mocking laughter and without his fellow Death Eaters. Hermione however found herself in exactly the same precarious predicament, held captive by a foul man with a wand at her throat. For the first time she felt a real tremor of fear race through her blood, her mouth became dry and a bead of sweat trickled between her breasts.

Two hazel and two silver grey eyes took in the scene before them, neither betraying an ounce of emotion, the faces of Lucius Malfoy and Julius Nihil remaining impassive, if perhaps a little curious.

"Lucius?" Julius Nihil directed his curiosity at the blonde, as if were down to him to provide an explanation as to what was happening.

The former Death Eater's pale eyes drifted unhurriedly, coldly between his friend and Hermione. His lips were set in a thin stern line, his nostrils flaring as if he had encountered an unpleasant smell. His mouth curving into a hateful sneer as he took a step closer to Hermione and her captor, his cane once again clicking with ominous familiarity on the hard floor.

Neither the Unspeakable or Hermione deluded themselves as to which side of the fence Lucius Malfoy would come down on, holding her breath and waiting for him to direct the question she knew was coming, at her, her mind racing for plausible justification as to why she was here and just what was going on.

"Sirron, what is the meaning of this?" His voice was as cold as his eyes.

Hermione was somewhat astonished that she was not on the receiving end of his initial interrogation.

"I caught her out here…snooping." He announced proudly, jabbing his wand harder into Hermione's neck.

Lucius's clipped voice dripped with more disdain than usual.

"Snooping." Her repeated the word as if it were alien to him or had been uttered in a foreign language.

His now slate grey eyes, this time moved to Hermione, then to Julius Nihil, finally returning to the fat man. His tenor now impatient and angry, speaking to Sirron in a way that suggested he was a complete idiot.

"Miss Granger is not only a friend of mine, but also a guest at this hotel. I would therefore suggest Sirron that you lower your wand."

Sirron glanced anxiously at Julius Nihil, his hazel eyes were narrowed and suspicious, but he nodded at his associate, who did as Lucius requested and lowered his wand.

"So Sirron please… define _snooping_." He asked with acerbic irritation.

As Lucius resumed his grilling of Sandor Sirron, Hermione's mind continued to race, at some point the line of questioning would undoubtably fall in her direction and she would need a convincing excuse as to why she had left the party and just what she was doing here.

Sirron glared at the tall blonde, clearly objecting to the fact that he was the one being cross examined. His gazed moved to his boss, who seemed to be waiting just as patiently as Lucius for a response to the posed question.

"She was loitering out here." He snapped, but with a decidedly nervous edge.

"Listening." His slimy voice dropped to a hushed, but more confident tone.

"She could have overheard, she could suspect…"

The puffed up cornflake did not elaborate, knowing his abbreviated sentence was enough for the other two men.

Julius Nihil returned his wary suspicious gaze to Lucius, clearly Sirron's words had credence and the criminal mastermind was not happy.

The sound of Lucius Malfoy's mirthless, patronising laughter reverberated along the hallway.

"Could!" Lucius again repeated Sirron's words as if they had been spoken in Parseltongue.

"Sirron, the walls in this hotel are made of something a lot thicker than parchment, the doors are solid oak."

The derision in his tone was embarrassingly scathing.

"Miss Granger would have to have the exceptionally good hearing of a bat to have heard even muffled tones. If anything has aroused her suspicions about whatever, I would think that it is man she hardly knows accosting her in a hotel corridor and thrusting a wand to her throat."

Whichever side of the fence Lucius Malfoy was coming down on, Hermione was grateful for both his argument and the breathing space he gave her.

"Did you even think it might be prudent to ask Miss Granger what she was doing here?"

She saw Sandor Sirron shift awkwardly and Hermione decided to jump in quickly, not wanting her silence to be construed as guilt in anyway.

"No he bloody well didn't." She said her anger evident and directed at all three men.

"He came up behind me, grabbed me by the arm, accused me eavesdropping and then stuck his wand in my neck." She fired a hateful look at the man in the ill-fitting tuxedo.

"And were you Hermione?"

It was Julius Nihil who asked the question, this time in a softly menacing tone. For the first time, Hermione felt a little scared of the man who was at the top of the Ministry's most wanted list.

She chose her words with extreme care, not wanting to inadvertently implicate herself in any way.

"Eavesdropping on what exactly?" She put the bludger back in their pitch.

"If you must know I was bored silly." She looked sheepishly at Lucius for effect, wrinkling her nose and tucking the rogue strand of escaped hair behind her ear.

"Kind as it was for you to invite me to your glamorous party Lucius, I don't actually know anyone."

She shrugged her shoulders, again for effect.

"You hadn't introduced me to any of your friends, except for the ones you then left with. A girl can only drink so much expensive pink champagne, so I thought I'd come and get a drink in the bar here, I might not know anyone here either, but at least the atmosphere was more…friendly."

Lucius threw a scathing look at Sandor Sirron, who had the good grace to look more than a little uncomfortable.

Julius Nihil, whilst looking convinced by her words and a little annoyed himself at the overzealous fat man, spoke furtively and inaudibly to the blonde at his side. His face gave nothing away, but she could see something in his cold eyes, her witch's instinct told her it wasn't good.

"If is that what you want Julius"

Lucius queried quietly.

The other man nodded decisively, looking coldly in her direction. "It is Lucius, better to be safe than sorry, we don't want anything going wrong now."

Hermione definitely didn't like the sound of that.

"Please don't take this personally Hermione." Julius Nihil said without explaining further, in that same softly menacing tone.

"She's your guest, your friend Lucius, deal with her."

"Of course, as you wish Julius."

Lucius turned back towards Hermione, his dark formidable presence even more imposing than ever, another bead of sweat trickled between her breasts and she shifted uneasily. If as Hermione suspected, Lucius Malfoy did know more about what she did for a living than he should, she could be in real trouble and she certainly didn't like the look or feel of this at all. Whatever had transpired between herself and the now supposedly respectable hotel proprietor, she doubted it was going to have any bearing on what happened next and was definitely not going to get in the way of the bigger plans Julius Nihil had. Hermione could now clearly see where the blonde's loyalties lay as curled his long fingers slowly around the silver serpent head and drew his wand from its ebony cane, the chips of glinting emerald in his hand. Earlier she had seen a brief reminiscence of the malevolent pureblood she had known as a child, now he was here in earnest. Nothing had changed at all.

"Incarcerous" He said quietly, pointing the shorter length of elm at her.

Hermione felt a thin rope or cord of some sort slither magically around her wrists, it bit into her flesh, much more harshly than Sirron's fingers had, and bound them so tightly together, she dropped her evening bag, it clattered nosily onto the wooden floor, the sound echoing in the silent hallway, the minimalistic contents spilling out. The magical restraint constricted tighter still, causing Hermione to cry out in pain, the Dark Wizard was clearly taking no chances with a witch of Hermione's abilities.

Again her fear was overtaken by that much more powerful emotion, this time it was an almost uncontrollable anger which boiled her blood, both at the man who had shackled her and at herself for being so blind and so very stupid. Hermione's brown eyes glinted furiously as she glared at the sneering, arrogant and deceitful blonde.


	15. Come Into My Parlour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well firstly as always a big thank you for comments and kudos you are all so sweet. Secondly, I had a couple of comments about Hermione being the worst (spy) Unspeakable ever because she got herself caught...and of course the legend that is James Bond never got caught????!!!!! All I will say is "No Mr Bond I expect you to die" ...That said, as always I apologise for any errors be they grammatical or otherwise and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story...

If there was an upside to the position Hermione now found herself in, it was that Julius Nihil had instructed Lucius Malfoy to “deal with her”. Whilst the prospect of being dealt with by anyone was not exactly ideal, panic aside, the thought of being left in the pudgy sweaty hands of the loathsome Sandor Sirron made her stomach churn and her skin crawl once more. Being left to Lucius Malfoy however, well her blood was easily at about a hundred degrees already and the shaking in her body was out of pure rage, not fear, but it was certainly a lesser of two evils. A tiny much more feminine part of her brain and her body come to that, harked backed to the previous evening, earlier in the day even, when her blood was heated for very different reasons and her body shook from sated passion. Then the notion of being dealt with by the fit blonde had very different connotations. But now both a furious Hermione Granger and an incensed Unspeakable pushed those thoughts firmly away, _hopefully_ there would be time to reproach herself later. The situation now, demanded nothing less than her full attention, there were no more pros and cons to mixing business with pleasure, they were all cons, and Julius Nihil and Lucius Malfoy come to that had made it very much business.

Hermione knew it was useless to fight against the restraints which bit into her wrists, like devil’s snare, struggling against an Incarcerous conjuration would simply strengthen the effects. She did however have a pretext to maintain, for all intents and purposes she was guilty of nothing, except of course walking along that public hotel corridor. The three men only assumed that she had overheard something she shouldn’t, presumed that she was up to something she shouldn’t be, because they were. A fact of course as a simple hotel guest, she was totally unaware of.

“Lucius really! What is the meaning of this? Release me at once.” She mustered as much indignation as she could.

Her anger was certainly not feigned, if perhaps emanating from a very different source.

“First you allow your friends to insult and maul me, and now you shackle me like this, have you gone completely insane.”

Hermione’s voice rose along with her tied hands. Maybe she could attract someone’s attention, another innocent guest, someone who wasn’t one of Lucius Malfoy’s business associates, a house elf, anyone would do. But despite the golf course, the tennis courts and those other Muggle influences about the place, this was after all a magical hotel and she doubted very much that neither Julius Nihil or Lucius Malfoy had not foreseen and covered every eventuality when planning this meeting, had put in place unseen wards and cloaking charms to ensure complete privacy and anonymity for those assembled here.

The darkly clad, grey haired man turned his bespectacled face to his friend, his own annoyance and impatience now clearly evident. 

“Now Lucius, before she makes a scene, we don’t want to draw any unwelcome attention to ourselves.” He smiled humourlessly at Hermione, peering over the top of his glasses.

“Or was that the idea Hermione?”

She refused to be caught out, her brain now in full Unspeakable mode.

“No Julius” She hatefully spat the name he’d affably insisted she use.

“Actually the idea, was to simply enjoy a pleasant evening, and have a quiet drink without being harassed.”

She fired a scathing look at Sirron, who sneered back at her, a contemptuous look which made her stupidly even more grateful that it was down to Lucius Malfoy to _deal with her_.

“Hmm, much as I would like to believe that, you are after all still Hermione Granger and …”

He stopped abruptly; Hermione got the distinct impression because he feared his words might reveal more than she already knew. She waited patiently hoping her might continue, but he was clearly done talking to her.

Lucius Malfoy moved closer, picking up the small evening bag and spilled contents that she had dropped, and pressing it firmly between her fingers, painfully grabbing the fleshy area at the top of her arm. He said nothing but nodded at the man with the steel grey hair, there was a knowing exchange of looks between the two men. Hermione’s heart was racing, even her keen mind and considerable magical prowess could see no way out of the inevitable ending, whomever had been left to “deal with her”.

“Good.”

The man with the glasses seemed more than happy that his wishes would be carried out as ordered.

“Come Sirron” He spoke to the third man like he was summoning a dog.

He cast a final glance in Hermione’s direction before striding arrogantly away, his own loyal little terrier nipping at his well shod heels.

Hermione’s attention came angrily back to the fingers biting into her arm, the cord tethering her hands and the tall deceitful blonde responsible for both. Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her brain still racing to find a way out. This time the cool silver head of Lucius Malfoy’s vicious serpent headed cane came up to her jaw, tilting her head back, and forcing her to look into eyes that were as cold and hard as the glistening metal which moved slowly and menacingly against her skin.

Lucius leaned towards Hermione, his silky blonde hair tumbling about his broad shoulders, engulfing her in that intoxicating scent of his. Despite the situation, fighting the effect it had on her senses was almost as futile as struggling against the Incarcerous spell, the more she tried to strive against it, the stronger the impact became. She tried to turn her head away, but a sharp jolt of the cane brought it back towards him, holding it firmly in place. His lips were annoyingly soft and warm as they spoke into hers.

“Oh how I look forward to _dealing_ with you my dear Hermione.” He whispered seductively.

Hermione couldn’t help but gasp, the action causing her lips to part against his. She felt them curve into a smile, a small almost inaudible sound escaping them.

“MMM”

Right at this moment the young witch wasn’t sure who she despised more, the cunning and treacherous Dark Wizard or herself, not only for being so gullible and easily taken in by him in the first place, but for how her traitorous body was reacting to him now. She’d been well and truly fooled up until this point and could quite easily find herself on the receiving end of the killing curse in the not too distant future, but it didn’t stop her skin tingling at the touch of his lips, and a decidedly non- angry heat burning low in her belly with his _threatening_ words. Those ludicrously soft lips of his travelled languorously down her neck, his teeth nipping at her bare shoulder with devilish proficiency.... Her hands might have been bound together, but there was nothing preventing her bringing them up between them to stop him, push him away. Nothing that was except herself.

Perhaps this was her subconscious telling her this was her way out of the situation. Having already thought keeping the former Death Eater _sweet,_ was the best way to find out more about what he was up to with Julius Nihil, maybe being nice to him now would work in her favour. Desperately trying to free her brain from the scent which clouded it and the touch which distracted it so effortlessly Hermione weighed up the situation. No matter how big an ego this man had, she doubted even she was capable of conning him into thinking that what he done was really actually okay, that she wasn’t going to put up some kind of resistance, wasn’t going to question what in Merlin’s name he was doing. It was an incredibly fine line she was treading, she had to put on a very good act and get the balance just right. If nothing else, perhaps she could prolong the inevitable, give herself a little breathing space, maybe even get Lucius Malfoy to let his guard down just enough to extricate herself from this, from him. 

“You can release me now your very important guest has gone.”

She tried a different tack, using words to remind him of a different time and place.

“The show is over, Lucius release me, I don’t understand…”

She continued to maintain the ploy of ignorance as she _struggled_ against the binding that held her, finally bringing her hands up _defensively_ between them. His ringed fingers pinching the skin on her arms as he maintained his tight hold, his mouth and teeth unhurriedly parting company with her bare shoulder. This time as she _struggled_ against both the restraints and the dark wizard, she thrust herself forward, bringing her into firm and flush contact with the man holding her captive.

Whilst schooling her brain was comparatively easy, her body was a lot more difficult to command, around him at least. She couldn’t control the shiver which emanated from deep within her as the soft planes of her own body contoured against the solid masculinity of his. Her nipples hardened with the silky abrasion of her dress, the fabric doing nothing to conceal their arousal, the taut buds clearly visible through the thin shimmering cloth. Hermione felt him relinquish his grip on her arm, her skin feeling oddly cool at the loss of even such rough contact, his hand used the same leisurely measure as his mouth as it glided across glistening white fabric, the pad of his thumb brushing the small peak. Hermione bit down on her lip determined to withhold the groan which threatened to slip from between them. This time she couldn’t _struggle_ against his grasp, he no longer physically held her. Only the Incarcerous conjuration kept her tethered, instead she took an angry step away from him.

“Lucius?” Her tone was angry and questioning, demanding an explanation, her brown eyes shining with fiery intent as they indicated the binding around her wrists.

His reaction was as unhurried and gauged as his movements. The briefest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, his nostrils adopted their familiar flaring and a dark blonde brow rose disdainfully.

“Hermione?” He mocked, moving threateningly back towards her.

Obviously, he had no intention of explaining or justifying anything to her. Whatever Julius Nihil had meant by dealing with her, he might eventually get around to, but for now it appeared Lucius Malfoy had his own agenda, and just as he had stated, was looking forward to dealing with her very much in his own way and at his own frustratingly slow pace.

His free arm snaked around her, pulling her back into him, the bound hands that Hermione held before her, found themselves trapped between their lower bodies, she could feel exactly what was on the Dark Wizard’s agenda and a lot more besides, her fingers flexing of their own volition and brushing his sheathed intent.

“Mmm.” Lucius murmured against her ear, his body pressing harder against her deliciously trapped hands.

Hermione’s fingers stilled and once more she half-heartedly attempted to struggle. Her brain angrily reminding her body that this was actually an escape plan and not a seduction. Her _struggle_ inadvertently or maybe not so inadvertently causing her hands to rub harder against Lucius, his hips thrust forward, and he groaned louder.

The snaked arm Lucius had caught about Hermine slackened slightly; his hand drifted to the soft swell of her arse, his fingers gliding easily over the expensive silk, they sunk into the sumptuous material squeezing hard. As he tugged at the fabric pulling it up with dexterous fingers, he recalled the image he’d had of the puddle of silk about her feet, her naked save those very high heels. His cock throbbed at the memory; things had however changed somewhat in that short expanse of time. She might not take so kindly to his intentions and advances now and having her restrained against her will gave those intentions and advances a nasty four letter word, and that was a line that even he was not prepared to cross. Her body however seemed to be conveying a very different message, those deliciously inviting nipples which almost begged to be touched, sucked, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as his lips moved against her skin. Despite her obvious indignation and her verbal protestations, she was hardly struggling to be free of him, and through the subtle floral scent of her perfume he could smell a very different, very musky feminine scent, a scent which stroked his own senses arousing them and him even more. Perhaps the delectable Miss Granger had a secret penchant for _tied up_ , perhaps she did, but without knowing for certain, it still added that nasty four letter word to his intentions. 

His flesh twitched as she shifted against him, this time moving backwards. Their eyes met, hers a fiery brown, indignant and demanding, his somewhere between silver grey and palest blue, unyielding and lustful.

Hermione saw through the uncompromising silver grey right into the lustful pale blue. Patience was not necessarily her strongest virtue but in this instance, virtue really had no part to play, to stand any chance of **not** being dealt with she needed to play Lucius Malfoy’s slow game. Hermione Granger’s body clearly had no qualms about this, the Unspeakables brain was another story entirely, not letting one overrule the other was going to be hard work. The fine line became a tightrope, a very high one at that. Her body played to the lustful pale blue; her mind concentrated on the silver grey.

The step she had taken back from him had been perfectly calculated, to the millimetre. She lifted her manacled hands once more, bringing them slowly up between herself and the Dark Wizard, that flawlessly evaluated step ensuring that they brushed against his body from the tip of his cock, softly grazing his stomach and brushing his chest until they finally came to rest at base of his throat.

Hermione’s words were as carefully calculated and finely balanced as her actions; she couldn’t afford to wiggle the rope. She let out a deep resigned sigh, the action causing her breasts to rise and fall, his gazed dropped for a fleeting moment before returning to hers, and she held those pale blue eyes with a now indignant sensuality, enticing him in.

“So prey tell Lucius, just how does a former Death Eater intend on _dealing with me?”_

A nerve pulsed in his jaw at her choice of words, his eyes flittering back to unyielding silver grey.

“You really should have said if you’d wanted to tie me up…I’m not averse to a little bondage.” Her brown eyes didn’t soften, nor did the indignation fade, but their fiery intent became challenging.

The nerve in his jaw pulsed a lot harder as his eyes drifted back to a very lustful pale blue.

Gotcha thought the spider…

Hermione’s shackled hands brushed against his; her fiery brown gaze still held his lustful pale blue. This time it was Lucius Malfoy who felt the familiar but somewhat unexpected pull of apparation.


	16. Allumeuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well apologies for long delay between chapters, the current situation and some personal circumstances haven't really been conducive to writing, but I will update I promise.
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments and kudos on the previous chapter and I hope this one gives you a bit of a distraction...and don't get grumpy with me...you'll see why. As always apologies for any errors etc etc etc. Enjoy ...

  


Just as a small part of Hermione sensed that Lucius Malfoy knew more about what she did for a living than he should, another small part of her had never been a hundred percent convinced that this particular leopard had completely changed his spots, cliché or no cliché. To believe that a bigoted, Pureblood supremacist like Lucius Malfoy, a wizard with such dark powers and of course a former Death Eater could do a complete 180 degree turn, simply become a respectable and honest businessman was a stretch off anyone’s imagination, no matter how much you wanted to believe it was true. However, the part of her which had so wanted to believe was quite possibly the reason why Hermione found herself in her current predicament. More clichés, mixing business with pleasure, those pros and cons, allowing her judgement to be clouded, all of these things had allowed the once brightest witch of her age and one of Ralph Messervy’s best Unspeakables to be caught snooping, to be caught period, but as her mother used to say “hindsight was a wonderful thing”. It was however also all of the aforementioned which allowed her, in her current circumstances to flirt with that bigoted Pureblood and contemplate the course of action she was taking. Those and that infuriatingly intoxicating scent of his…

  


There was a peculiar look on Lucius’ pale face, a mixture of shock and amusement, there was even a hint of admiration twinkling in his expressive eyes. To apparate as she had done, was no mean feat, some might say nigh on impossible, even for a witch of Hermione’s considerable talents. She herself was more than a little surprised, not to mention relieved that it had worked. As well as her skilful magical ability, the now entirely focused Unspeakable was also playing mind games with this Darkest of wizards, apparating them back to his room, just as he had done on the previous occasions, not to her own. To a place where he would feel safe and unthreatened, by making him feel comfortable, there was more of a chance he would _trust_ her, maybe even let his guard down just a little, but just enough.

He raised a questioning dark blonde brow at the young woman before him, allowing the image of her shimmering gown puddled around her feet to flood his brain once more. His body stirred excitedly at the prospect, perhaps his intentions and advances would not be so unwelcome after all.

The Unspeakable’s anger at being duped, at being tied up, and at being caught, bubbled hotly under the surface, but it was Hermione’s memories of the pleasure she had enjoyed in this room which rose well above the surface, bubbled just as hotly, if not hotter and took purposeful control of the situation, that indignant sensuality glistening brightly in her eyes.

“You said you were looking forward to _dealing with me_ Lucius.” She said forthrightly, unperturbed even.

Her body brushed enticingly against his, he couldn’t hide his reaction and Hermione smiled inwardly.

“ _Condemned_ Muggles are granted a last meal, sometimes even a last request, something they enjoy. I am really not hungry but…”

She shrugged her shoulders; the action causing her breasts to rise and fall against him.

“As it appears for some _inexplicable_ reason I am a condemned witch and that clearly your spots remain very much as they were.” She maintained the pretext of not knowing what was going on, allowing a modicum of annoyance to filter into her words, just to keep up _appearances._

“I take it there’s nothing stopping me enjoying you one last time or would that perhaps take the fun out of _dealing with me?_ ”

Hermione threw the words away, as if she was totally resigned to her inevitable yet still unexplained fate and as if there was nothing better on offer, he would suffice for enjoyment. Throwing herself at him, without question or the merest hint of anger, would only arouse suspicion, not him.

His lustful pale eyes drifted over her flushed face, following her soft skin as it drifted beneath that shimmering silken fabric. A wicked glint flickered in their depths, a smile like he were about to devour something mouth wateringly good, curved his mouth.

“Hmm” It was both a contemplative and appreciative sound which escaped from his lips.

“My dear Hermione, nothing could ever take the fun out of either my enjoying you or vice versa. I must however take a few precautions. You do understand?”

Hermione knew their conversation hadn’t gone back to safe sex, and that the Dark Wizard was of course going to take a few safeguards against her escaping or at least trying to.

“But of course Lucius, I would expect nothing less.”

She left another of those deliberate pauses between her words, allowing just enough sensuality to creep in.

“I won’t even object to you keeping me tied up. I am sure I can think of an alternative…” She licked her lips provocatively.

Not for a second did he loose eye contact with her, as he raised his cane slightly, twisting it around deftly between his fingers and muttering a few well practised words. Presumably there were already protective charms and wards about his room, he was simply activating them. Previously a locked door would have sufficed but not now, a blue haze around the door and windows confirmed their presence.

He rested on the serpent head of his cane, the silver glinting between his fingers, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the young woman before him. Lucius was not just surprised but also enthralled by her reaction, or the fact that she didn’t object to him keeping her tied up, it was something he hadn’t indulged in before. Narcissa was very strait laced when it came to the physical side of the marriage, the fantasies he’d had remained firmly in his head, until now that was. Whilst he was enthralled by her not objecting to remaining tied up, his body was excited by something else… _the alternative_.

He leaned forward, the action causing his mane of blonde hair to tumble forward, Hermione found herself inhaling deeply once more and savouring that quintessentially ‘him’ scent that she was now so familiar with, the situation doing nothing to dull the effects it had on her. His face was a few centimetres from her own as he spoke.

“So tell me my dear, I am intrigued”.

This time it was a slim perfectly plucked eyebrow which rose in in questioning response to his words.

“Have you thought of one… _an alternative_ that is? _”_

Hermione smiled inwardly, yes, the fly was well and truly in the spider’s parlour, but the problem now was how in Merlin’s name did the spider get out? She really would just have to be patient, bide her time until an opportunity presented itself. The man might not have changed his spots, might be working with the Ministry’s most wanted Dark Wizard and might have her tied up, but despite all of that she couldn’t deny how much she’d enjoyed him sexually.

Might! Might! Might! Part of her brain screamed in disbelief. He clearly hadn’t changed at all, he **was** working with Julius Nihil, and he did have her tied up. Yes! Yes! Yes! The other part of her brain placated, but to achieve her aim now, she had to put that to one side and just compartmentalise, focus on just how much she’d enjoyed him.

“Oh Lucius” Her laughter was wickedly teasing so as not to offend him.

“I really don’t have to think at all.” Her tongue moved slowly across the seam of her lips and she offered him an equally teasing smile.

“I presume the wards prevent me from using any magic of my own?”

Lucius gave her a look, one which confirmed her presumption was indeed correct and Hermione silently congratulated herself, interrogation was so easy when it was masked behind something else.

“Then perhaps you’d do something for me?” She asked bringing her tethered hands up.

An instant flicker of disappointment crossed his face, clearly thinking she’d changed her mind and was going to be very boring and ask him to release her. Hermione caught a lock of his silky hair between her fingers, tugging it playfully, before allowing it to slip from her grasp before recapturing it and pushing it back over his shoulder.

“This morning, your hair was tied back.” 

She brushed the side of his neck with the back of her tethered hands.

“With a thin strand of ribbon.”

Lucius nodded at her very precise recollection; curiosity now settled on his face.

“It was ridiculously sexy and if my hands were free, I would enjoy tying it back again myself, but as they aren’t.”

A slow smile curved his sensual mouth, knowing what she was asking, his gaze briefly left her to look at the nightstand next to his bed.

“Accio ribbon.” He said quietly and the small strand of dark ribbon flew across the room.

Its trajectory was intercepted by Hermione, caught like his hair had been, between her fingers. She held it up to him.

“Without magic.” She said firmly, waiting for his conformity before allowing him to take the ribbon from her grasp.

There might not be any point in trying to escape, free herself from her restraints or Lucius come to that right now, but these little gestures and her _acceptance_ of the situation would allow Lucius to believe her compliance, would gain that trust.

She watched as he slowly raised his arms and slid the thin strand of dark ribbon beneath his hair, the action pushing his chest forward, it allowed Hermione to take full advantage. The hands that had been all but caressing his neck, moved over his smart tailoring, toying with the buttons on his jacket as they went.

Lucius continued with his own assigned task, taking a slow shallow breath to steady the reaction his body was already having to even the most innocuous contact.

Hermione made no effort to free the small fastenings, she simply traced each one absently before moving on to the next, that was until she reached his waist. The jacket on the dress robes he wore was quite long, the straight jacket ending mid-thigh.

Lucius tightened the ribbon sharply around his hair as the first button, slightly below his waist slid from its hole, the last one being freed as he secured it in small secure bow at the nape of his neck, just as it had been earlier in the day. His arms remained raised as Hermione’s hands moved deftly beneath the woollen material of his now partially open jacket, two fingers managing to hook themselves over the waistband of the matching trousers. She pulled him forward ever so slightly, this time his intake of breath was far more discernible, his arms dropping to his sides.

Those lustful palest blue eyes once more met Hermione’s twinkling challenging brown.

“Perfect.” She whispered against his slightly parted lips, as if this was a completely normal situation.

Her bunched fingers rested against his groin and she flexed them tantalisingly, watching intently as his black pupils widened amidst the pale irises. Manoeuvring both her hands and her fingers Hermione managed to undo the fastening on the waistband of his trousers, the two hooks slipping as willingly from their bars as the falling zipper did as she tugged at it awkwardly, there was no denying the obvious enjoyment the clumsy contact her tied hands were having on his body. The jaggedness of her cack-handed movement causing his trousers to drop onto his hips, well that wasn’t such a bad thing, once again there was no silk or expensive cotton beneath his outer clothing, just an enticing smattering of dark blonde hair. That would make this part of her mission much easier in more ways than one…

For his part, clearly he had no intention whatsoever of aiding or abetting her in her quest. Something she would definitely make him _pay_ for. This time Hermione made no bones with her awkward movements, thanks to him and an Incarcerous conjuration, her hands were tied, he would have to accept the consequences that this was not going to be as smooth and easy as it might have been. With the zipper now fully lowered the only thing keeping his trousers up was his hips and a certain amount of gravity. Hermione pulled gently at the left side, so the material slid from one hip, repeating the action at the right, the expensive wool slid from their anchorage, the trousers stopping at his knees. Hermione could picture him in her head but her eyeline did not follow the path of his falling pants. She smiled teasingly at him and returned her attention to the remaining buttons on his jacket, purposely avoiding his freed erection as she did so. Working her way back up to his neck, Hermione slowly and painstakingly released each fastening from its neatly stitched hole until the jacket was completely undone, then in the same way as she had the trousers, she pushed it carefully from each shoulder, even without any aid from its owner it glided easily over the silky cotton shirt he wore and dropped onto the floor with a gentle rustle.

It was supposed to be a puddle of red and white at his feet Lucius thought, she was meant to be the one naked, restrained and him doing the……

“Ohmmm” The incoherent word fell from his lips, forgetting about puddles of any colour, every thought and nerve now just focused on what she was doing to him.

Hermione had dropped to the floor along with his discarded jacket. Her knees thankfully sunk into the softness of the plush rug that covered a good part of the wooden floor in his room. There was something very seedy about the aesthetics of the situation whilst at the same time being incredibly erotic. The formidable Dark Wizard Lucius Malfoy, standing tall and noble, but stripped in such a way, his trousers at half-mast about his knees, his shirt hanging around his hard aroused body. A body which was still every bit as powerful, in fact a body which seemed more potent than ever as his hard flesh stood rigid and proud. His skin was deliciously warm, even slightly clammy to the touch, as gaining a comfortable position Hermione trailed her fingers along that impressive length of his. Her mouth mere millimetres from him she blew on his hot skin, his cock jerking at the sensation of her tantalisingly cool breath, another incoherent sound of pleasure emanated from deep within him. Hermione increased the pressure of her fingers as best she could, her fingers moving deftly along his shaft, from the balls at his body to the ridge at the swollen tip which was but a tongue’s length away. She leaned closer removing that tongue’s length from between them, licking the head like it was some sweet confectionary.

“Hmm” The sound came from her own lips and her tongue swept over his taut skin.

“You taste surprisingly good” She said her as her fingers continued to dance along his hard flesh.

Her quiet tones drifted to his ears through a haze of undiluted pleasure.

“For someone so bad you mean?.” Lucius offered huskily in response.

The Hmm changed to a “MMM” the sound reverberating along the length of his cock as she took it in her mouth. Her fingers now caressing his balls.

The breath was almost ripped from his lungs and Lucius thought his knees would buckle at the intense sensations which flooded his body as he was sucked deeper into her wet mouth, her flicking and circling tongue increasing his excitement. Groaning loudly as her head moved back only to draw him in harder and deeper, his pleasure addled brain impressed at just how much of him she drew in and just how deeply. He tried not to thrust forward for fear of gagging her, but he couldn’t stop himself, seeking more of the ecstasy her mouth was giving him. 

Hermione moved with him, savouring the masculine taste and feel of him against her tongue, her teeth gently grazing his veined, swollen flesh. The tiny part of her own brain which wasn’t absorbed in that same intense pleasure reminded her of the situation, oh of course it would be so easy to bare her teeth completely, sink them sharply and painfully into him, but that would achieve? Absolutely nothing, accept of course his wrath. Hermione might have acquired a few Muggle self-defence skills and some martial arts techniques while she was training to become an Unspeakable, but she was still restrained, the room was still warded, she couldn’t use magic and where in Merlin’s name was she going to go anyway?

She covered her teeth once more sucking harder, feeling him throbbing in her mouth, but finding herself struggling to accommodate all of him. his building pleasure seeping on to her tongue, he moaned softly, one hand moving over her bare shoulder the other drifting to her hair. Hermione shifted on her knees finding herself wishing more and more that her hands were free, but it had less and less to do with any escape plan.


	17. The Job Comes Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well despite the world outside you have continued to comment and give me kudos, so thank you all for that it does mean an awful lot. I know the updates are not quite so frequent at the moment but they will keep coming I promise. That said on with the next chapter and as always apologies for any errors etc.

Lucius Malfoy was engulfed in a sea crashing ecstasy; like a roaring tide it gradually washed over him, ebbed and then came back at him harder and faster than before. There were two things he tried to push as far from his mind as he possibly could; his cold ex-wife and the job he was supposed to be doing, unfortunately even in his heightened state of arousal, they both found a way to permeate his thoughts.

As well as being strait laced, Narcissa Malfoy had always been quite cool and aloof sexually, even in the early days of their relationship. After they were married their intimate encounters had been confined to the bedroom and had been little more than conjugal, with Draco’s birth they became even less frequent, that coolness now bordering on frigidity, sex was just something the ex-Mrs Malfoy did not particular enjoy, found distasteful even. She would never in a million years have consented to being tied up, even if technically neither had Hermione, not initially anyway, and as for what the unexpected Hermione Granger was doing to him now…

“Mmm, aaah”

More incoherent sounds of rapture tumbled from his lips as his cock slid further into Hermione’s willing mouth, her leisurely, tormenting tongue sending another of those crashing waves surging over him.

His lust addled brain pondered the second thought that drifted into his head, the _job_ he’d been ordered to do. Well not so much as to what he had been ordered to do, but more along the lines of how could she possibly do what she was, knowing what she did and what was ahead of her? But did the former Death Eater really care? His body certainly didn’t that was for sure, it positively revelled in the fact that this, that **he** was her “last request”. A modicum of guilt flowed momentarily into his mind, as her soft wet mouth continued to dance over his rigid flesh, but he was not going to allow it to detract from his pleasure. He had been ordered to take care of her, he was hardly doing that, not in any sense of the instruction. She on the other hand was certainly taking care of him and very nicely too. This was her choice he assured himself, his hips thrusting not so gently forward, another low growl emanating from deep within him. Of course he was more than happy for her to pander to him, who wouldn’t be! Especially under the circumstances, circumstances that made the situation oddly so much more erotic, turned him on even more, if that was actually possible; Hermione Granger on her knees before him was a powerful enough image in itself, that she had his cock in her mouth…… Lucius watched as his body disappeared between her remarkably still glossed lips, there was something extremely dirty and deliciously seedy about how the shiny red lipstick transferred itself from her lips onto his flesh as she sucked with almost calculated precision on his flesh, it was positively whorish and he loved it. The bright red polish on her nails glinted wickedly at him as her tethered hands continued to move over him, that too was disgustingly arousing. The quite astonishing Miss Granger also had an intuitive, unrestrained touch that elicited everything from his pulsating body, seeming to instinctively know what pleased him, almost feel what pleased him, and playing on it, extracting every ounce of desire from him. 

From the guttural sounds and soft moans which drifted to his ears, she appeared to be enjoying the same earthy gratification that he was, it too was something he found exciting and absurdly sensual. Another of those modicums of guilt drifted into his brain, it was not something he was usually synonymous with but, however egocentric Lucius Malfoy was when it came to most things, whatever other _faults_ he possessed, one thing he certainly wasn’t was a selfish lover. Even with his prudish ex-wife, he’d always been prepared to give Narcissa what she wanted, even if that was nothing and to his own detriment. He felt being selfish, when it came to sex was just foolish, not only did it limit your own pleasures, it meant you could expect nothing in return and Lucius Malfoy always wanted something in return.

What seemed like endless hours ago now, the dark wizard had envisaged doing so much to Hermione; As he’d put on his dress robes his body had stirred excitedly remembering the previous evening, and earlier in the day, he’d thought about his tongue in her mouth duelling feistily with hers and if he were lucky, tasting her intimately. And yet here he was, those same dress robes now somewhere about his ankles and it was him being tasted intimately. He’d looked at her across the Ice Palace and imagined his mouth and his hands upon her soft skin but save the briefest of contact with her bare shoulder he hadn’t touched her at all. That shimmering puddle of silk once more sprang into his mind, pooled about her feet, but it transpired the shimmering puddle of red and white silk, was actually about his own feet, and she was still wearing it. Hermione moaned, the sound exciting him all over again as the vibration travelled from the tip of his cock, seeping back into his body and seeming to touch every nerve he possessed. Whatever guilt he’d felt about being a selfish lover passed as fleetingly as it had appeared.

“MMM soooo gooood.” He couldn’t withhold the words which escaped his lips, his usually aristocratic tone no more than a quiet hiss.

It was beyond ironic that he should be more concerned about being an inconsiderate sexual partner than the fact that he had been tasked to deal with Hermione Granger in the worst possible way, by the Ministry of Magic’s darkest most wanted wizard, that was clearly a very secondary thought and one for now at least he was putting to the very back of his mind.

Hermione could easily have had that meal she mentioned as a Muggle last request, but right now she was devouring something of a vastly different kind and there was no denying just how much she was enjoying it, with or without his more tactile interaction. Perhaps she thought this, or any kind of sex might soften him up, his brain sniggered silently at the notion, the reality of him being soft in any way right now was so far removed from reality it was laughable. A very tiny coherent part of Lucius’ brain warned him that sex was an incredibly powerful weapon in the right hands, and Hermione Granger certainly had the hands to use it and was using it very skilfully. Despite having been caught supposedly snooping, the young witch was nobody’s fool, but then neither was he. Whatever her reasons for doing what she was right now Lucius Malfoy really didn’t care in the slightest what they were, he was going to savour every moment, for now the job he had to do would very much come second, he was certainly going to be coming first.

His blonde head fell backwards, loving the glorious sensation of her hands gliding sensually over his erection. He toyed with the idea of ending the Incarcerous conjunction, but he was relishing the entire scenario far too much, not to mention the tightness it gave her grasp and she was after all going nowhere. He found the notion that she probably wouldn’t make any attempt to escape strangely irksome; the idea of chasing her, recapturing her, _forcing her back_ appealing to an extremely dark side of him. He groaned, silently this time.

His cock was swathed in his own pleasure as well her saliva as her strokes increased, alternating between her fettered hands and her mouth. She sucked avidly on him dragging her mouth over his ample length, allowing his cock to slip from the moistness with a gentle pop, her tongue whirling eagerly over the head. His own hands instinctively came to her hair, it remained caught in the elegant chignon, those few escaped tendrils he had replaced, still tucked neatly behind her ear. Lucius impatiently tried to thread his fingers into it, tugging it painfully from the pins which secured it, they scattered across the wooden floor and into the soft rug, until finally the dark wizard could run his fingers through that unruly mane of hers. He buried his hands in the soft brown strands, holding her head and restricting her actions. Her mouth was now solely fixed on him, he could feel the pressure building up inside his body like a volcano about to erupt, but he wanted to savour every minute of her mouth for as long as he could, for as long as she would let him.

Hermione’s movements slowed over him once more, allowing that gentle ebbing sensation to engulf him again, his breathing evened out and Lucius smiled smugly to himself. Something told him that even if he hadn’t restrained her with a spell, been told to deal with her by Julius Nihil, his evening with Hermione Granger would have still ended up roughly where it was now. Another very dark part of this man couldn’t help but wonder how much more enjoyable the _forced_ circumstances had made it. Her tongue and fingertips licked and touched at places that even in his own wildest fantasies he never imagined another person licking or touching, a very different kind of heat suffused his body and his face, as another growling unintelligible moan fell from his lips.

“aah mmm”

Lucius found himself fast losing his self-control, in more ways than one, his usually disciplined body very much in the hands, and mouth of another. His long fingers entwined themselves tighter in her hair and he pulled her head back upwards. Her vixenlike brown gaze collided with his lustful blue grey and he slowly thrust himself deeper into her mouth, his mind plummeting further into the gutter. It was an intoxicating and heady mix of power and eroticism, holding her head, turned it into a dirty, lust driven pleasure and his body responded unreservedly.

“How much can you take?” He drawled softly, his noble tones velvety smooth and raspingly sexy.

Hermione said nothing, he felt her shift her position her lips closing sinfully about him, he would swear she all but smiled at him, around him with a devilish intent, her unseen tongue swirling around his hidden flesh as she took him as far as she could. His cock revelled in the tight constriction of her mouth, feeling her throat and then her teeth, tension seeped into his body and he shifted his own position. She drew the sharp unguarded edges carefully over him, gently grazing his silky veined skin. His cock jerked, the _tension_ oozing from his body in a wet dewy droplet which spilt on to her marauding tongue and she repeated the action, eliciting another bead of _tension_. A long hiss of undiluted pleasure fell from his lips as the sharpness was replaced once more by the soft wetness of tugging bliss and her equally soft fingers caressing his balls. 

His breathing shortened, and he could feel that glorious intensity once again building from deep within his body, he couldn’t hold on much longer an involuntary moan escaping him as her mouth took on more purpose. The tremors which had been coursing through him were now building to a tumultuous crescendo, his body convulsing and throbbing in sheer pleasure at her touch and to that wicked mouth of hers. Another moan reverberated along his cock and Lucius glanced down, the look of sheer unadulterated delight on her face pushed him hurtling over the edge with astounding speed.

“I’m going to come.”

He offered breathlessly, his fingers tightening in her hair but not securing her head, whatever the circumstances, however dark a path his thoughts took, Lucius would not force her to take his seed in her mouth. 

But she didn’t pull away, her mouth continued to caress his shaft moving up and down with a mind blowingly rhythmic intensity, her warm hands drifted to all sorts of places, stroking and enticing, her tongue all the while teasing him to come, and he did, with a carnality so powerful and so forceful he cried out loudly. His brain clouded in a fog of erotic sensations as his body was wracked over and over with spasms in an ecstasy that he had not experienced in a very long, this was completely different to the sex they had shared. This pleasure was purely his and it was ceaseless. Lucius tried to control the violence of his movements not wanting to choke her as he thrust into her mouth, but she just seemed to spur him on, drag him in, her encouragement was as unrelenting as his orgasm which continued to spill into her mouth with a burning ferocity. He felt her swallow against each burst, the notion searing through his mind and increasing a gratification which was seemingly infinite.


End file.
